


Random Shoes

by sadiedurren



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadiedurren/pseuds/sadiedurren
Summary: Sets of random one shots, meant to be moments in the lives of Quinn and Santana. Ranging from light fluff to angst to adult content. Therefore rated M for the whole.





	1. Power Struggles

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo...I thought I'd give this a whirl. I have these on ff.net too. All of this is my first attempt at writing anything, and I don't much like this show but I like the characters. I'm not a genius and not the most creative which will reflect, I'm also not the grammar police and I'm dyslexic so there WILL be mistakes.
> 
> Random Shoes will be exactly that - random. There have only been a couple of instalments that follow on from each other, but most of the chapters will be different scenarios and I will put warnings on each if necessary.
> 
> Will range from fluff, some will be smut, some will be in between and a couple are darker. If anyone has any guidance/suggestions or anything I'd love to hear about them.
> 
> I own nothing, just having fun.

It shouldn't have worked. It did work.

It should have been a sex thing. It wasn't just a sex thing.

It shouldn't have lasted more than a month, tops. It was currently at a year and a half.

It hadn't fallen apart. There was no lying or cheating. There was emotional talk stuff. There were considerations of future plans, like – way in the future. She was talking about weddings and kids and shit.

She should have been terrified. She wasn't terrified.

She was happy. Even when they had moved in together three months ago (it would have been six months ago but it had taken three months to find a place they both adored), she hadn't freaked out. Well maybe once, but it was a minor freak out that had been fixed easily followed up by steamy hot shower sex. Who could begrudge that?

''What're you thinking about?''

''Fucking.''

There was a disbelieving scoff from behind her. The body that had pressed into her back and wrapped their arms around her squeezed her gently. Her body shivered at the hot breath ghosting her neck as a chin rested on her shoulder and that beautiful face nuzzled her lovingly.

See, before this she mostly hated that shit. With the rare exception she really just wanted to fuck and run. It was fun. The thrill of the chase, the coaxing a girl (especially straight girls) and fucking them senseless had been nothing but addictive.

Not that she thought relationships sucked or anything, but she just hadn't been a grown up yet. She had just wanted to live it up for a while. Plus the effort that went into these things? God, she just couldn't deal with that shit, all the remembering little details and birthday's and anniversaries and what they liked to do…so fucking boring and bothersome.

Now it was safe to say that she knew everything about the woman pressing into her from behind, effectively pinning her to the kitchen counter. Right from the colour of her eyes when she was about to cum, where exactly to kiss her body to wind her up enough to simply cum from sucking her breasts, to her love of reading, the fact she was claustrophobic and hated the smell of bananas to her whimsical believe in narwhals and unicorns.

''No, you weren't.''

That sultry, husky voice breathed out knowingly as that oh so talented mouth placed hot kisses on her neck and shoulder. Those skilful hands swept across her body, one inching up to cup her right breast and the other sinking beneath her panties to scratch lightly through the top of her curls.

Her body jerked and her breath hitched and before a second could even float by she was so very wet with a hard, pulsating throb ebbing outward through her from her core.

''Well if I wasn't before, which by the way let's take a moment to marvel at that, I certainly am now.''

Her girlfriend, her fucking awesome, beautiful, magnificent, insatiable, sexy, whore like, saint like, innocent, depraved girlfriend, jolted her in admonishment because she wanted a real answer. Her tongue run along her neck followed by a soft bite, followed by another lick and a suckling. She nearly lost her fucking mind and blew right on the spot. But the attention was just not enough to do that to her, it was perfectly calculated.

''Tell me and I'll put you out of your misery.''

Her husky, hot whisper promised. She flopped her head back to rest against her and those hands continued their assault. Fingers slipped into her slick wetness and slipped back out. Nails traced the underside of her breasts after invading up her vest – no touch was able to give her the kind of friction or pressure or relief that her body now demanded.

Her own arm reached up to tangle fingers in silky hair.

''I was thinking about how much I love you.''

Her voice had a cracked edge to it as her breasts were fondled and her hips tried to lean into those fingers that were dancing – fucking dancing – in her folds, avoiding her clit for now but working her up expertly. No one had ever played her body like this – ever. Not even close, actually. And that said something with the amount of girls that she had gone through and the amount of seriously amazing sex she'd had. Not as amazing as what happened between them though.

There was a gratified murmur in the back of that husky throat.

''And how much do you love me?''

''So fucking much.''

It was a desperate mule and it was so very true. Those teeth bit into her again, tongue poking out to swirl against her skin.

''Would you bleed for me?''

''Yes.''

''Would you kill for me?''

''Yes.''

''Lie?''

''Yes.''

''Submit to me?''

''Yes.''

''Would you die for me?''

''Fuck yes.''

The fingers ran over her clit and she jolted and moaned loudly, her body bucking wildly as her reward was given. She let herself go, gave her body up for her to do with it what she pleased. Her long fingers slipped inside of her causing her to stretch her walls in such a delicious way it was dizzying.

They eased in and out inside of her, curling and crossing and scissoring as her palm rubbed against her clit and fuck she was already seeing stars behind her eyes. Her body had nowhere to go – trapped between her hand and her body and held by strong arms. She was everywhere.

''Will you be true to me?''

The voice of pure heat and sex asked.

''Yes.''

''And protect me.''

''Yes.''

''And want me.''

''Yes. Oh god – yes.''

''And love me, will you love me forever?''

''Yes.''

''Say it.''

She was burning up and so very, very close and standing in their kitchen like this – being surrounded by her with that voice and those hands and that smell and the gentle solidness of her body – it was all so erotic and sexy and fuck, she was so ready to combust.

''I will love you forever.''

''Then I only have two questions left.''

Her mouth was dry, there were fireworks in her mind and her body was a prisoner to the pleasure surging through it. Pleasure that was almost painful and probably should be considered illegal because it was more mind blowing than the best fucking drug out there. But she nodded sloppily, groaning and gripping onto her for dear life.

''Anything.''

Seriously, anything. If she asked her to jump out of the fucking window right now she would. If she asked her to go rob a bank she would. If she told her to turn herself inside out so she could take her soul she fucking would.

''Will you be my wife? Will you marry me?''

The words caused a powerful surge inside of her – the likes of which she had never felt before. It was forceful and primal and it felt like raw molten lava.

''Yes! Oh my god, yes…yes.''

Those lips smirked against her neck, teeth still slightly sunken into her skin. She was probably going to have some sort of mark there but she really didn't care.

''Then cum for me.''

And she did. Holy fuck she did and it was hard and phenomenal and it ripped through every single inch of her. It rolled and rolled and she continued to pulse and fuck it happened again, and then again and god she felt like dying in a happy, overwhelmed and sated way – because her bones turned limp and she had to rely on those arms and that body to keep her from falling.

Her mind was sucked into a state of oblivious bliss. It took long, long moments to come down from that – to reconnect with the physical world. The first thing she felt was the pulsing. Her body pulsed and hummed and was hot and sticky. Her breathing echoed in her ears and the heat of her own skin but especially the heat of the body pressed against her made her feel like she was burning. But she didn't care.

Those fingers were still inside of her, palm still pressed against her, hand still up her vest, mouth still attached to her neck, breath still ghosting across her skin, body still against her own. They were still stood in the kitchen of their converted loft on a Sunday morning and the scent of coffee was still lingering in the air now mixing with the scent of sex. The radio was still crooning in the background and the air was still generally quiet and the sun outside had brightened the magnificent fucking view they had and warmed the air.

Life was still going on. Birds still chirped. The ocean waves still ebbed and flowed. They were still breathing.

''You lied. There were three questions.''

She murmured breathlessly. Her neck began to receive soft kisses as the hand up her vest moved slightly to sprawl across her abdomen.

''Two of them meant the same thing, doesn't count.''

''Does so.''

''Fine, then the last one was an order. I didn't ask. I told.''

There was a pause for one thoughtful beat, because her mind was not working as well as it normally did right now.

''Damnit.''

She had to concede because it was true. A smile adorned those beautiful lips and she murmured a little as those fingers slipped out of her slowly, trying not to jar her too much, and moved up to join the other across her abdomen.

That's how they stood, in that embrace, for long comfortable minutes.

''It shouldn't work…''

''But it does.''

They were both agreed on that. There was a buzz in her stomach now that wasn't entirely caused by the orgasm that she could still feel in her every fibre. It was that future again. It was the idea of spending the rest of her life with this woman. It was the thought of raising babies together and spending whole nights devoted to each other's bodies. It was the knowing that fights would come and go and laughter would be shared. It was exciting. And wonderful. And fucking sappy as shit but she didn't care anymore.

''That was…an inventive way to propose to somebody.''

''My romanticism is second to none.''

''Oh yeah, sure – you try telling this story to our parents and enquiring minds.''

''I shall. I'm not ashamed.''

''You should be, most girls get a nice dinner or something.''

''You got multiple orgasms.''

''I like that better.''

''I know you do.''

Again, there were a few moments of silence. Comfortable, giddy, loving, sweet silence as the air sucked in their feelings and charged itself.

''Santana.''

''Quinn.''

''We're getting married.''

Santana turned in her arms – which was a feat in itself because her body was still floppy and weak from all that glorious exertion – and she looped her own arms around the blonde's neck. Those hazel green eyes looked down at her intently, burning into her like always.

''We're getting married.''

She confirmed confidently. There would be a whole host of people that would literally find it hard to believe that she of all people was getting married, but those people probably just hadn't met this goddess in front of her. As soon as they did they would understand.

Sometimes to tame the wildest person you had to employ the power of an equally wild person. But it wasn't a taming – it was a sharing, they were wild as ever it's just they were wild together instead. Wildly devoted and wildly in love and wildly insatiable for each other.

Their mouths met in a languid, sloppy kiss that held no rush but was connected and deep. Tongues slid against one another in heated exploration. Santana's fingertips kneaded and lightly scratched the nape of Quinn's neck, all the while pulling her as flush against her as she could. The blonde hands scraped along the small of her back, dancing across the skin exposed.

They didn't have a conventional relationship, not really. But in a way she guessed they sort of did. They were loving and faithful and honest. Comfortable together and knowing of one another. To most they were a mismatched couple – too similar in their confidence and assertiveness – maybe all around too similar.

It was just supposed to have been some hot sex with no expectation. They were supposed to clash and battle over power and dominance. Instead it had lead to this, and it was epic.

''I love you, Mrs Lopez.''

Santana whispered against those delicious lips.

''I love you too, Mrs Fabray.''

Tongues roamed again, hot and slow and promising. Until Santana frowned her classic 'what the fuck' frown and pulled her head back.

''Wait, what the holy eff? It's Lopez…''

''Fabray.''

''In your wildest dreams, Barbie doll. Go Lopez or go home.''

''Santana – shut up and fuck me.''

The Latina forgot about the power struggle between their names and gladly took Quinn's mouth and she propelled her backward to shove her up against the fridge. Her hands eagerly roaming the expanse of that goddess like body, fingers hooking into her underwear to pull them down.

''It's Fabray.''

Quinn muttered quietly but confidently against her lips. Santana scowled again, shoving Quinn into the fridge pointedly again, even though she didn't retract her mouth.

''I fucking heard that, bitch.''

The only answer was a devilish smirk imprinted on Quinn's lips.


	2. Credibility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings except for shoddy writing.
> 
> Was not super happy with this, I think my point got lost and when it was originally done I didn't know the better terms for things, but I am leaving it unchanged.

''What the hell is this?''

To say that Santana was insanely furious right now was the biggest understatement of life. In fact, she didn't know how she was managing to think clearly and not murder anyone that came within two feet of her. She felt like ripping somebody's throat out.

She threw her script down onto the large, messy table that the writers sat around to think up their twists, turns and plots. Usually she was fine with them. She liked the direction of the show, its characters, her character and she just loved the material she got to come in and work with everyday.

But not today and not this.

''Santana…''

William Shuester, the creator and mastermind of the show, began with a placating and therefore patronising tone, only to be cut off by the irate Latina.

''No. Don't 'Santana' me – what the hell is that?''

He sighed and ran a hand over his face, the other writers looking to him or between themselves hoping that they wouldn't get caught in the cross fire. Some of them had tried to warn him that this would be her reaction, and some had been eager to throw this little twist into the mix for her character.

They had a prime time show on their hands and Santana was definitely one of their biggest stars. She worked hard and she had lots of ideas but sometimes she could be a little temperamental. Not one of those actresses that demanded and threw hissy fits or anything, but she definitely had a passionate vein.

''Is this because I'm a lesbian? Is that what this is?''

She demanded, pointing at the offending script that was now looking a little worse for wear considering she had thrown it across the room several times in the last hour or so.

''We thought it'd be an interesting avenue to explore.''

Will said unconvincingly, earning himself a withering glare.

''You mean you. You thought this would be an 'interesting avenue to explore'. Are you serious with this? Is this because of me? What, you think because I like girls you can just get me to make out with whoever the hell you want on the show for a ratings hike? No way!''

She accused, pointing a finger directly at him before flailing off as she continued to yell loudly. What the hell made them think she would be okay with this? It was insulting and infuriating and demeaning. She had spent two years working her ass off for these people and they try to use her like this now?

This business wasn't exactly fair but she at least thought that she had the respect of these people and the right to be treated with professionalism and equality. It was hard enough to not play up to Latina stereotypes and be different from the typical Hollywood looking starlet, let alone be the inspiration to go and turn her sexuality into some flippant ratings booster for the show.

Especially when it was off of the back of true confirmation of her being gay. The cast knew and all and she had managed to date under the radar before she got this gig but because it had blown up in epic proportions it was a lot harder to do anything without being noticed. There had been rumours she never really denied but her relationship with her girlfriend had gotten to the point where she didn't want to deny anything. So she hadn't. And now everyone knew for sure.

''Santana, please calm down. Look, you have to deal with the fact that we're writing for a wide audience here and we're supposed to reflect what happens in real life. You should be happy that we want to include this.''

She scoffed loudly.

''Well I'm not! I should be happy that you what? Want to include a lesbian make out scene and then drop it as soon as that's done? That's insulting. She isn't the lesbian, I am – and you can't just use me like that. She's never shown any signs of being interested in girls, so obviously it isn't an avenue to explore. If it was a serious storyline I might get behind that but this is just…it's disgusting and advantageous and you think that you can just use my life for your own purposes? If you want a lesbian kiss then fine, do it – just don't us me. I don't want anything to do with it.''

Santana declared after dressing them down and folded her arms across her chest, panting slightly at the exertion of being so worked up. Seriously, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt like this. Sure her temper could flare sometimes but not ever to this degree, but she felt so fucking angry.

Actually she felt violated. It was a violation.

''Are you saying you won't do it?''

Will demanded with a coldness to his voice, showing that he clearly wasn't getting Santana's point one little bit. She knew in her head that maybe if she was calmer then it could possibly go in a lot better but calm was about a thousand miles behind her. Calm was a dot in the distance.

Santana really wouldn't have a problem playing a gay character, she really wouldn't. Because that would just be hypocritical. But to just do this with no regard to what it means was not something she could get behind. It was wrong. She wanted to be genuine with what she did and the character she played really was not this type of girl. She wouldn't do what they had written, it would be unbelievable it would make people angry and she didn't want any part of it.

It was gratuitous and they were only doing it because of her and they thought they could just flick on the switch then flick it off. They weren't thinking about how much things like this meant to a lot of people.

''Hell yes I'm saying I won't do it. This is my life, do you get that? Do you know how hard it is to be taken seriously? You do this and you'll not only cost me my credibility, but hers, yours and the entire shows. If you want to write about real experiences, then make somebody really gay, not curious for an episode because it'll be hot.''

''It's just a kiss…''

Santana flailed again, spinning around because she was so frustrated. This day was just a very bad day. And no matter what happened now she was going to be disillusioned by this experience.

''It's not just a kiss! It means something to people. It means something to me. It matters. I won't do it, I absolutely refuse to do it.''

This time she didn't shout. Her words were strong and confident but she didn't actually yell like she had been. The resolve was written across her face because she was adamant that she would rather go with her integrity than pander to this.

''You know that they'll be consequences if you don't.''

The Latina shrugged at the threat.

''I don't care. You can fire me if you want. This is trash. You are all better writers than this, and we don't need this for our ratings. If you do this you'll be belittling everyone. She is straight. She just is she wouldn't do this. I would, so it just makes me feel like crap that you'd pull this on me just because I'm gay. I thought you had more respect for me than that.''

''Of course we respect you Santana, you're extremely talented and a valued member of this cast.''

Will tried to refute and compliment her – like that would actually make her roll over and do it.

''If it makes you feel better, we were going to reach out for Quinn to come in and play the part.''

He added hopefully. Santana stared at him with more intensity and wrath than he had ever seen anyone have. For a long tense moment she stared, completely frozen and in shock that this 'gesture' was supposed to make her feel any kind of better.

Then she laughed. An exasperated 'you just made things so much worse' kind of laugh as she dropped her head back for a moment.

''If you had any fucking respect for me you wouldn't be trying to use what has been one of the hardest experiences of my life to cause some titillating wet dreams. If you had any respect for me, you wouldn't sit there and tell me you were going to try to use my girlfriend to 'legitimise' this shit. Get someone else to be your episode long lesbian.''

She didn't wait for anymore to be said. She didn't wait to hear about these consequences. If they wanted to punish her they would punish her, at least she could hold her head up high and sleep at night. It might have been a small thing to a lot of people, in the grand scheme of things who really cared right?

But some people did. It wasn't small to her it was huge. It had taken most of her teenage years to accept the fact that she was a lesbian and be okay with that. She was proud of who she was, she worked hard and she was passionate and she at least could stand up and do the right thing. It really wasn't a big deal for the storyline to happen but not like this. Not because they saw an opportunity just because one of their cast was gay.

And definitely not because she had a girlfriend that also happened to be a well known actress.

Santana headed home, driving through traffic with a steely focus. Not being overly angry or overly upset because she was behind the wheel of a vehicle, so just being intently focused. Maybe scarily so.

She made it home in one piece and for a moment after pulling up besides Quinn's car – which by the way was always a cool thing to see in her driveway – she just sat. Part of her still not quite believing what had happened at the end of her working day. She got out of the car feeling somewhat calmer and composed, she had always liked driving so it had probably helped a lot.

''Q?''

''Kitchen.''

Of course. Santana smirked before propelling toward the kitchen. She lifted up an amused eyebrow when she heard a voice speaking in Spanish and then Quinn repeating it. When she turned into her kitchen she just leant a shoulder against the doorframe and watched the blonde stir something and try to get some pronunciations right, before she paused the CD she was listening to.

''Hey baby! Rachel sent me a cool CD to practice so I can be the slightest bit impressive when your parents…''

That was it. That was the length and breadth of Santana's composure. From absolutely nowhere she just broke out into tears. Or not tears – flat out sobs. She hated crying but here it was. She just felt so dejected and used.

Immediately, though she was shocked at the display, Quinn abandoned the cooking and went over to her girlfriend. She pulled her into her, hand wrapped around the back of her head and cradling her against her shoulder, the other on the small of her back.

It's not that Santana didn't get emotional, she did – a lot. But not like this.

''It's okay. Whatever it is let it out.''

So Santana did. Her hands clutched onto the material of Quinn's shirt and she cried into her shoulder for maybe a good 5 or 10 minutes. Quinn just held her and let her, because Quinn always seemed to know what she needed. It was crazy how that had happened because it required a deep understanding of her which sometimes people never got.

After a few minutes when the crying started to wan a little and Santana was mostly just sniffling, Quinn's hands cupped her face and pulled her back a little, and she placed a gentle kiss on her lips, thumbs tracing her dampened skin. Santana breathed out a heavy breath and hiccupped, nuzzling close for a moment and just breathing in the blonde's scent. It made her feel better.

''I love you.''

Santana sighed and nodded, clutching onto her girlfriend a little tighter. The words had never meant so much in her life.

''I know, I love you too.''

''Is it something you wanna talk about?''

It was an option to not talk – or to delay the talk until words could be found – as Quinn had learnt fairly quickly when to push and when to wait. Santana didn't do well with feeling pressured into talking and like everybody, sometimes the words just were there immediately.

But she had ended up talking to Quinn about a lot of things. Maybe that's what had made her fall in love with her so easily? It had sneaked up on her and beat her around the head, because Quinn had that disarming smile and that way about her that got right past your defences. She was a love ninja, is what she was is what she was. A damn love ninja.

In a couple of weeks she would be officially introduced to her parents that were coming for a visit. They knew about Quinn and there had been an occasional 'hello' spoken over the phone, but they were yet to meet. The last time they visited Quinn had been away on location so Santana had just talked a lot about her instead.

She knew her parents were totally going to love this blonde ball of randomness who was repeating stupid Spanish phrases off of a CD just so she could buff up and not seem ignorant of their language.

Because hell yeah that was the kind of thing her girlfriend did for her. And later she would rant to her about what happened at work earlier and she knew Quinn would get it and be on her side. That's all she needed right now.

''Maybe later? Right now I'll just help you finish dinner and listen to you repeating stupid CD Spanish!''

Quinn laughed and nodded and Santana kissed her again. This was exactly what she needed.


	3. Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit angsty - no character death, but there is a loss of life. Also Quinn and Rachel are sisters.

Silence.

Screams.

Grinding metal.

Silence.

Screams.

Panic.

Distant voices.

Fear.

''Get the fuck off me! Get off!''

Quinn wakes up in a state of fight and flight. Screaming and shouting and fighting with her captors. She's getting nowhere fast but she continues to try.

They try to catch her flailing arms and pin her down and she shoves them off harshly, not really registering that they are less of captors and more of medical staff. But she's fucking terrified. She doesn't know these people. She didn't know where the hell she was. She didn't know what the fuck was happening.

''Please, Mrs. Lopez, calm down. You need to calm down.''

Quinn shoves someone off of her again, grunting and dragging in painful gaps of air as she fights with all her strength. It isn't a lot. She feels exhausted and weak and powerless but she's running on a surge of adrenaline and fear, but already she was shaking and her skin – a sickly pale – was perspiring with the exertion.

''Don't tell me to calm down! Where am I? Where's my wife?''

''Wait, just…''

Quinn literally throws one of the women she's battling into a gathering of machines near the wall and she rips the bed covers off of herself in an effort to get out of this fucking bed, not realising for the moment that she can't move her legs.

''Santana! Santana! Where is she?''

She screams and demands desperately. She's clutching the rail of the bed so hard that her knuckles are white, only letting go to fight more staff, dragging herself toward the edge of the bed in between the fight.

She will move damnit. She will find her wife. They could not stop her. She could feel no pain. No greater pain than the anxiety of not having the woman she loved anywhere near her.

''Quinn! Quinn stop it.''

Quinn blinks. That's familiar. That voice is familiar and commanding yet soft. And now there's hands on her shoulders holding her in place and she pants haphazardly, frowning as she pushes through the shock.

Her eyes look up to the face in front of her own properly, and finally it registers who it is.

''Rachel? Oh god – oh thank god.''

Quinn clutches onto her sister thankfully, scowling over the brunette's shoulder at the unfamiliar faces as they gather themselves up. Her sister was here damnit, she'd help her. The blonde clutched at the material of the brunette's sweater and tugged on it as she gazed passed her warily at a man with a needle.

No fucking way was he drugging her. No fucking way.

''Quinn…''

''I don't…Rachel what happened? Where's Santana? You have to help me.''

Rachel looked behind her shoulder at the man that Quinn was glaring at. It was taking all of her strength to remain composed for her distraught sister. She could feel her panic and her pain in her own chest and it was thick and agonising. She shook her head at the man. She could calm her down – Quinn would listen to her she had always been able to calm her down.

''Do you remember anything?''

Rachel asked softly as she turned back to Quinn. She had never seen her like this and it was the most heartbreaking thing Rachel had ever seen. It was even more heartbreaking knowing that there was more pain in store for her. All she wanted to do was wrap Quinn up in her arms and protect her from it.

She couldn't.

Quinn paused, sniffling, staring off into nowhere as she fought the fog in her mind.

Laughter.

''I…I…remember…she was laughing.''

Laughing that melodious and mischievous laugh. The laughter that always made her heart skip.

''Laughing?''

Quinn nodded, her hands still gripping onto Rachel. But flashes came back to her now. Echoing noises and images with blurred edges. Not Santana though. Santana was in perfect clarity – sat in the passenger seat of the car and laughing, doing funny little dances in her seat as she continued to laugh and tease. She was so beautiful.

And her hands would instinctually pat or stroke the recently protruding baby bump that had appeared lovingly.

''Yeah. We were in the car…Santana was teasing me about calling the baby something hideous. She uh…she said we were calling him Fabio.''

Quinn giggled. Oddly, surreally, she giggled like Santana had as she had insisted that Fabio was surely the name for their son.

''And she was laughing. Then…no. It's blurry…loud noises and screaming.''

Quinn eyes focused back onto Rachel fearfully.

''What happened to us?''

Rachel had never heard Quinn's voice like that. Not even when she had come home crying from school because somebody in their class had found out that she was adopted and had said some awful things about her. Not even when she would have nightmares sometimes and sneak into her room to get into bed to feel safe. Not when she had been the one to break it to Rachel that their Grandpa was in the hospital after suffering a major heart attack.

Rachel wanted to vomit.

''There was an accident, Quinn. A uh…a joy rider ran an intersection and hit two other cars. Your car.''

She shook. She shook even as she moved her hand to cup Quinn's face. She shook as she took in a strangled breath, because she was sure a fucking elephant had moved onto her chest. She shook because this wasn't supposed to happen. They were so happy. They were good people, and some fucking delinquent teenager had just ripped their lives apart.

The man in the second car was dead. That left two fatal casualties. How did you tell your own sister that?

''Rachel please…where is my wife? Is she…is she dead?''

Quinn croaked out in utter dread. Rachel stroked her other hand through limp hair and shook her head.

''No. Santana is down the hall…''

Of course, Quinn began to move again.

''Then I want to see her…let me up.''

Rachel shook her head and held her shoulders again to get her to still, and when Quinn saw that her sister was crying she faltered.

''Quinn you have to listen to me.''

Rachel ducked her head for a moment and tried to compose herself again, but it was so hard when all she wanted to do was cry and scream and shout. But right now her sister needed her and she had to do this.

''There were complications, Quinn. You had to be cut out of the car…they said you were in and out but Santana was unconscious throughout. The impact broke a rib that punctured her lung and it collapsed, and with the time it took to uh…they don't know what's going to happen when she wakes up. At the moment they're keeping her in a coma, she's stable but…critical.''

The only thing Quinn could see when Rachel was talking was Santana's face in that car. The laughter and the unadulterated joy in her glowing eyes. They were supposed to be going to dinner with some friends. It had supposed to have been a happy night. They were just going for fucking dinner and now this?

She swallowed a razor blade lump in her throat as she stared at Rachel, just knowing that there was something else from the look in her eyes.

''What…what about the baby? Is our son okay?''

Rachel bit her lip and the surge of tears did hit her. She shook her head and Quinn felt like something had slammed into her. She couldn't breathe but there was hot bile surging through her and she was dizzy.

The next thing she knew she was sick. Just snapped to the side and threw up over the side of the bed. Her head didn't know what to do with this. Santana was critical and their son was what? Gone?

This baby boy that they had been waiting for and creating for – the nursery was finished last week and they had been talking about names. Real names not silly names like Santana was making up or pulling out to torture her with and make her laugh.

They had been loving him already and now what? Was he gone? Was he still inside of her, dead and still?

Rachel held her for long, long moments – crying as she cried. Quinn would shake her weakly every so often because god this was just too much. It was their whole damn life and she had been through enough pain already. When was it going to stop? She had finally let someone inside – finally found someone that knew her and she trusted not to abandon her like her birth parents who had just…left her as a toddler in some warehouse.

And after all the shit she took for that at school, after all the shit she took for being into girls and the either rocky relationships or the pain of good ones ending or the determination to just have flings or one night stands…she had found this amazing woman and they were happy.

So what, did the universe think she hadn't had any pain for a while and decided to slam some on her? It was so fucked up.

''I have to see her…please.''

Rachel looked up imploringly at the staff that were hovering nearby, looking woeful and sympathetic. They nodded and Rachel nodded too, kissing her sisters' head lovingly. She could be strong for her because that's what they did for each other. Fucking DNA be damned there was absolutely nothing that separated them in anyway. They were as close as siblings could be.

''Okay. Sweetie listen to me again okay? There was some damage to your back and there's some swelling…they said it's temporary, okay? But right now, you need to use a wheelchair, you're not gunna be able to walk for a little while.''

Quinn shook her head.

''I don't care. I'll drag myself down there if I have to…I don't care. She needs me there…she's all alone.''

Rachel kissed her sisters forehead but remained quiet and let the staff begin to assist a now passive but determined blonde. This was a nightmare. It was a call she had never ever wanted to receive and she had stood there opposite a Doctor explaining all of this to her just wishing that their parents were here. They were on their way but it was the middle of the night now and they would be in the air on a late flight.

Santana's parents were coming too. Rachel's own spouse, her husband Sam was sitting down the hall with Santana.

Eventually Quinn was in a wheelchair and she was connected to a drip and she ignored the discomfort and the pain from other injuries because they were getting closer and closer to the hospital room that Santana was in.

It was so hard to see her like this. Limp and lifeless in a bed that made her look so small. She was pale and bruised and it was hard to remember her laughing and then see her like this. Because in Quinn's head the Latina had been fine like – 5 minutes ago. She had just been fooling around and laughing, enjoying the atmosphere and looking forward to a nice dinner.

Now there was nothing. She was silent. And Quinn could barely see her properly in this stupid wheelchair and she felt so helpless. She didn't understand how this could happen. She didn't understand how she could go under and the next time she woke up this was their life.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Holding onto Santana's hand she did the only thing she could do – she made a promise that she intended to follow through.

''We will get through this, baby. We will. I love you so much.''

The promise was kept; because Santana woke up and they pulled each other through losing the little boy that they had decided to have a memorial for. He may not have been born but he had been there, and he had been loved anyway.

And their future children knew about their brother, Milo. Gone but never forgotten.


	4. Leave

Quinn collapsed forward onto her lover literally struggling for breath. Her chest was actually burning with the need for air. Her oxygen-starved body gasped in disarray – her skin flushed with sweaty exertion and flush – even her hair was a little damp.

Exhilaration surged through her body like tidal waves –not even tidal waves, more like personal tsunamis inside of her. She could feel slick heat at her pulsating core and the fingers that had brought on this sweeping and ripping orgasm were still firmly set inside of her. Talented, talented fingers.

Quinn chocked out a breathy laugh because she was too flummoxed to find strength in her voice and she thought how ironic it was that men thought women couldn't fuck. Maybe if they could trade places for a go around they could see that women were suitably equipped to fuck as good as they were – probably better. You didn't need dick to fuck and you certainly didn't need dick to hit that spot.

''I so needed that.''

The blonde husked against the silky skin of her benefactors chest. Her face automatically turned into the warm nook of neck and shoulder and her lips pressed against the skin there. She could feel the pulse beneath thundering away – almost as violently as her own erratic and urgent pulse.

Santana Lopez was definitely equipped. Quinn doubted the Latina had met a girl in her life that she couldn't whole-heartedly satisfy. She was a sensational creature really. Her beauty was practically crippling and cause instant mouth watering reaction. She had a fabulously quick wit that stemmed out of her effortless intelligence that also made her even more undeniably sexy. Her body was literally to die for and her voice was pure orgasmic bliss. And if all that wasn't enough her personality was just so special and unique. Santana hid it from most or just showed sides of it because she was protective of it. Once you saw it though it was breathtaking.

All in all it made for an irresistible package.

''Little pent up there, Q?''

The blonde shivered at the sex in Santana's voice as well as the fact that the slightly smaller woman trailed her fingers up and down her spine with the pads of her fingertips.

''You have no fucking idea.''

Quinn sighed out a puff of air and managed to slide her boneless feeling body off the top of Santana and to the side of her instead. Her breath still hadn't quite managed to regulate itself and she propped her head up with one hand her front pressed against Santana's side and her own hand running trails along naked tan skin.

''I missed you.''

She whispered croakily but no less sincerely. Her eyes watched her own hand dance on skin for a moment but then she blinked and when her eyes reopened they were intently focused on Santana's. Those dark, soulful eyes spoke to her loud and clear because if there was one thing that could betray Santana's guarded defences it was her eyes.

''Leave him.''

Quinn ducked her head slightly and let out a shaky breath.

''It's not that simple.''

Santana's hand reached over to cup her chin and lift her head up again so that she could catch her eyes. Suddenly Quinn's chest burnt in an entirely different way. It burnt with guilt and regret and a pleading want and desire. It burnt with the weight of her mistakes.

It wasn't entirely a mistake to get married. At the time she had honestly loved Sam. He was so kind and attentive and just so sweet. They had been happy for a long time but now it was just flat and empty and they weren't the same. Their marriage was over. It was silent and void and the only thing that had kept them in it for as long as they had been was their two children.

Carly was five and she was so freaking magnificent Quinn didn't even know where to start. Isabelle was three and just as amazing as her sister. They were her children – her girls. Little perfect creatures that she had physically made with Sam and he was such a great Dad. She always knew he would be.

''You don't love him. Not anymore – not the way you should. Trust me when I tell you that it hurts more to know your parents are in a loveless marriage. It sucks to think they're in pain because of you.''

Quinn lifted her hand to Santana's face thumb stroking her cheek before it rolled over her lips. She knew that Santana still carried a lot of residual pain from her parents' marriage. Is that what would happen to her girls? Would they hate them for staying together? Could they tell that something wasn't right?

It gutted her to think that either way they would hurt. They were so innocent and pure and wonderful. Quinn wanted to protect them and surround them in a bubble of love and happiness. They deserved a wonderful childhood because the world would soon steal their innocence away because it was brutal.

''Do you really wish they had split up?''

''Yeah. At least then they could've been happier and maybe even friends. Now they just hate each other's guts and we can't have a family function without it turning into a war zone. Why do you think I put off going home?''

Quinn paled at that. She couldn't stand the thought of her girls growing up and doing the same thing. Avoiding what should be celebrations because their parents would be bitter and spiteful. She couldn't even imagine being bitter and spiteful toward Sam at this point. He was a good man. A really decent and caring man.

They were just going through the motions though. Sure they could have some family fun and they could sit in a room together after the kids' bedtime and chat about a few things – mainly the girls. They could sit close and sort of cuddle and go to sleep next to each other.

Sex was almost none existent and when it happened it was awkward and not at all satisfying.

''How did this happen, Santana? How did I stand up and marry a guy when you were right there at the time? Why couldn't we have known then?''

Santana lifted her head slightly and kissed Quinn soundly. Those were questions that she shouldn't ask because no one had any answers. They had been friends back then. Plain and simple – just friends after having met in freshman year of college. They shared some classes but they were also in the LGBT group because it wasn't a secret that Quinn had an eye for the ladies too. Sam had never cared about that.

When she and him had had their first real fight when she had realised that this marriage no longer worked she had gone running to Santana and they had slept together. And despite saying it wouldn't it had happened over and over and over again until it was a full blown affair.

Quinn wasn't proud she really wasn't. But she couldn't seem to stop either. She was caught between what she thought she was obligated to do and what she desperately wanted to do. And in the middle of those two opposites sat three people she could end up destroying.

''All I know is that I love you, Quinn. I'll do anything – be anything for you.''

There was a scratch in Santana's throat that made the words thicker and a glistening in her eyes. She meant that with everything. If she only got to be 'the other woman' for the rest of her life she would take that because it was so worth it. Quinn was worth it and as much as it would hurt it would be worth every single moment of pain.

What she really wanted was to make her happy. To take away the troubles in her head and have her to hold every night. She could be so much for her because Quinn made her better. She just did – she was so much better with her here. And she loved those girls – she would consider them her very own, really she already did. They were extensions of the woman she loved so how could she not?

''I love you too, Santana. You have to know that I want you so much but this…it's not just me I have to think about. Please tell me you understand?''

Santana sniffled and nodded as tears slipped sideways out of her eyes.

''I understand. It's your family, y'know?''

Quinn nodded as she put her head to the brunette's.

''Yeah, but so are you.''


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have just messed up a whole lot of the timeline in Glee - I also obviously butcher the English language, so I'm very sorry that I may have done the same to the little Spanish that's in this that honestly came from Google translate. Sorry.

Quinn approached her girlfriend that was currently sat in a small sort of huddle in the choir room. Brittney and Puck flanked her, and then Rachel was sitting next to the blonde cheerleader and Kurt by Puck. They were laughing lightly about something and Santana's smile widened when she looked up and saw her.

The blonde would never tire of that – Santana's smile that only she was graced with. She always smiled a distinct smile for her, it wasn't for everybody else. It was the same with her eyes; they would hold a unique sparkle just for her. It was one of the reasons she loved Santana so much. Quinn didn't think anyone realised just how romantic and special the Latina could be when they were alone and the brunette didn't feel like she had to put up a front.

''Hey, I need to talk to you.''

Santana was still chuckling lightly at something and given that Rachel was shooting a good-natured scowl at Puck, Quinn guessed that he had been saying something dirty. Santana nodded as she stood up which gave Rachel the space she needed to lean over and smack Puck on the arm.

''Sure babe.''

The Latina gestured with one hand to move over to the deserted piano and used her other to gently take Quinn's arm and guide her there. The little huddle kept on talking and the rest of the club and some of the band were scattered around engrossed in their own conversations.

Santana leant against the piano and her hand slipped down Quinn's arm to take her hand.

''You know, the last time you said you needed to talk to me like that, we ended up making out in the locker room, right?''

She joked lightly with a crooked grin. It was a nice memory if she didn't say so herself. Quinn had finally succumbed to her gayness and talking had rather quickly led to kissing. Glorious, phenomenal kisses too – not some 'I'm a baby lesbian, take care of me' kisses. She was a seriously awesome kisser. Anyway, Santana liked to think about that, something had been happening between them for longer but it had gone mostly unacknowledged except for certain looks and very tenuous inferences. And just when she thought that Quinn was never going to admit things and let herself be happy – she did.

''You can make out now if you want!''

''Wanky!''

The first enthusiastic heckler was of course Puck. He got two smacks upside the head for it in way of punishment from both Rachel and Kurt. The second heckler was Artie, who also got slapped for his efforts by Sugar who tutted and rolled her eyes.

Santana threw each of them a hot glare – especially Artie because that was her word – before pulling Quinn around to the other side of the piano to get some more space between the earwigs.

''How did they even hear us over this noise?''

Quinn rolled her eyes but didn't sound too mad. Santana just shrugged.

''They're horny boys and we're hot assed lesbians – they have super human hearing abilities. Anyways, what did you wanna talk about?''

Santana watched as Quinn swallowed, sighed and then ruffled her choppy blonde hair. She looked around for a moment before she looked directly at her with that look – that 'my mind is made up' look.

''The thing that we talked about? I wanna do it.''

Santana's eyes widened because she knew that Quinn was talking about. To be honest she was beyond shocked and instantly she started to think maybe she had pressured Quinn into it.

''You do? Are you sure? I don't want you to do it just because I…''

Quinn put her hand over Santana's mouth to shut her up.

''Look I'm scared – terrified actually, and I don't see it going well for me. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm gay or the fact that I'm in love with you. It also doesn't change the fact that because of Finn and his fucking bullhorn of a mouth, our closet doors are going to be blown wide open anyway. It's coming, Santana – and we should do this before they hear it from someone that isn't us. We can't lie forever and I for one don't want to. You're better than being my dirty little secret. We're better.''

Santana blinked and let Quinn speak and her whole body filled up with warmth at the conviction of her words. Sure she sounded nervous but there was also that steely strength running through her. Quinn didn't get just how strong she was but Santana could see it. No matter what anyone said the girl that she was in love with had never had an easy ride. Not from her family, not from this school and not even from the people in this room – especially not from herself.

She had overcome so much and it was partly the reason that Santana was forcing herself to deal with her own feelings too. She didn't exactly like to be exposed either they were alike like that. When she had first realised she was attracted to girls she had jumped on the easy rides in this school – namely Puck – to try and forget about it. To convince herself that she didn't watch the sway of feminine hips or enjoy the scent of girls. And every time she had kissed a girl, or touched a girl, or fucked a girl, or let them do the same to her – she had reasoned it off the best she could.

Until she had ended up cracking and crumbling into a pathetic mess and had a sob fest in Brittney's arms with Lord Tubbington watching her from the end of the bed. Her best friend had really pulled through and told her it was okay to be who she was. She guessed that was the start of this journey – admitting things she had trying to force down.

Since then, bit-by-bit, day-by-day and kiss-by-kiss she had ceased to fight it. It helped that Quinn had done the same; it was good to have somebody to hold onto through it too. Not that she couldn't hold onto her friends, to Brittney, but Quinn was her girlfriend. And when she told her that she loved her in the middle of the night, when her head was still cloudy with bliss and Quinn's hands were still in her and on her and her body was against hers and her breath was against her skin, the world seemed right. It seemed perfect.

So how could that be wrong, right?

''Ah huff ooo dooo.''

Quinn frowned and then snickered lightly as she dropped her hand from Santana's mouth so she could understand her this time around.

''I love you too.''

Santana repeated almost breathlessly. Not because Quinn had had her hand over her mouth but just because her chest was like – going insane right now.

It was pretty much catch-22 right now. They were damned if they did and damned if they didn't. Santana felt guilty because maybe if she had stopped her mouth before it ran off Finn would never have said anything in the hallway. But he just wound her up so much sometimes and she just couldn't stop the insults from flowing out of her mouth. Not that he shouldn't have chosen that to hit her back with – that was just plain low.

But just knowing that Quinn thought it was inevitable anyway and so they should go ahead with what they had discussed the other night made her know that it wasn't just because they had to do something. It made her feel special. Quinn thought she was special. Quinn thought they were special.

Santana lifted up her hand to brush through some of Quinn's unruly strands – she had become somewhat less bothered about looking perfect – a sort of mix between her previous self and a punk/rock type self that Santana found insanely hot. The blonde just smirked and squeezed Santana's other hand that the Latina hadn't let go of.

''You really don't have to do this, Quinn. It's me that's getting forced out of the closet, we can still protect you – it's only these guys that know about us and we can keep it that way. I can protect you, baby, I don't want you to go through anymore hurt. Especially not for me.''

Quinn smiled and cupped the side of Santana's face, they had subconsciously moved closer.

''I'm not letting you do this alone.''

''But…''

''Santana, it's okay. I'm ready. Graduation is around the corner and we'll be moving onto college. I kind of want to do this before because if…if she does it again then I just want to know that, you know? Make a clean break and head toward a fresh start. With you. I can't hide and let you take on everything by yourself, even though I know you would because you're a sweetheart.''

Santana frowned and dipped her head slightly, but only frowned in that sweet kittenish and playfully pouty way she did when she got embarrassed. Usually at some compliment Quinn came out with that referred to her softer side that she guarded so well.

''Don't spread that around.''

She muttered. Quinn laughed and rolled her eyes and pulled Santana into a full body hug. She breathed in heavily and let it out again. She was terrified. She was bracing herself for another wave of pain and angst – bracing herself to be abandoned yet again. But it was worth it and she did have to know. She could live her life in secrecy and she couldn't deny who she was or who she was with.

She wasn't a kid anymore. She wasn't some scared little girl anymore. She'd survived this much already so she would survive coming out to her Mother. And if she had to go the rest of her life without her parents then so be it. Her Dad had already washed his hands; her Mother was barely involved in her life anyway. This time she wouldn't be alone. She'd have someone to hold onto.

''Whatever happens, we'll get through it Q. You and me.''

Santana stated in determination. Quinn squeezed her harder and nodded. They just held on for a little while longer until Mr. Shuester ambled into the room.

''Okay guys, let's settle down.''

He looked up from his papers and saw the two girls pull back and look a little teary eyed.

''Girls, are you okay?''

He asked softly. Santana smiled at Quinn as she used her thumbs to brush away some stray tears before she sniffed and did the same for herself and turned toward him, taking the blonde's hand again. Everyone had sat in their seats by now and seemed to be interested in what was going on.

''Yeah. Quinn and I have decided to come out to our parents.''

There were a few mutterings across their friends.

''Wow, that's a huge decision. When?''

Quinn looked at Santana and nodded.

''Tonight.''

''How do you think they'll react?''

Rachel wondered gently, more asking Quinn than anyone because of previous experiences with the Fabray's. Not personally of course but it wasn't a secret what had happened in that family anymore. Rachel had met Santana's parents and they seemed nice, but she hadn't spent a lot of time with them or anything. Brittney knew them well though and she smiled and that seemed like a good indication.

''I guess we're gunna find out.''

X-X-X-X

''Mom, I need to talk to you.''

Judy Fabray looked up and smiled serenely at her daughter. Quinn knew that her Mom had a slight buzz going on – after her Father left she didn't drink as much but she did still drink. Most days she was just a picture of polite indifference – smiling and saying nice things about things that she either didn't really listen to or didn't really understand.

It was still better than the empty shell she had been before.

Now though, Quinn walked into the living room and turned off the TV. Judy was watching some stupid god channel that even made Quinn think that it was boarder line cultish.

''Is everything okay, honey?''

Judy asked primly, smiling as she watched Quinn sit on the footrest opposite her. She leant forward and tugged gently at some strands of Quinn's choppy hair.

''Oh, I do wish you hadn't cut your hair, Quinnie.''

She mused for possibly the millionth time since her hair had been cut. Quinn let out a slow, patient breath and rolled her tongue.

''I know you do. Mom, I need you to listen to me now okay? This is important.''

Just sat up straight and nodded with a 'serious' frown across her face. It was a weird pod people expression to be honest. Quinn was a little put off by it. Still, she knew she had to do this. Although this was possibly the scariest thing in her life – even when Finn had sang that stupid ass song to tell her parents that she was pregnant.

Fucking imbecile. She was still mad at him about that. He had just gone ahead and done it like he did most things, not thinking about the consequences. Exactly why she and Santana were in this predicament when they hadn't expected to be.

Anyway that wasn't the point right now. The point was that she was about to deliver some major news to her Mother and not only was she terrified, but she had no idea what was going to happen. In anticipation she even had a bag packed and shoved into the trunk of her car in case she was told to leave again.

She was fully expecting it. History had taught her well.

X-X-X-X

''Mamá, Papá, ¿podemos hablar?''

Santana's voice was a little meeker than usual and she was sure that would tip off her parents. Not that she generally walked around her house with the bitchy attitude she could be known for at school, but still. She hadn't said much over dinner because she had been too nervous. Despite not having Quinn's parents to contend with it was still nerve wracking to have to tell your parents that you were a lesbian.

Santana was their youngest child; she was the baby of the family and the only girl. They actually adored her which was why she had always been a little secretive, she always wanted to be everything for them and she was so afraid that if she wasn't then they would look at her differently. Because she knew that she put on this tough front but deep down inside she felt every single thing and it was hard. It's why she tried to protect herself.

Her parents were standing at the kitchen island chuckling about something or other as they were making some desert. Everyone had been too stuffed right after dinner – well Santana hadn't been because she had picked at her Mother's food, but she was too nervous to be hungry.

''Of course, mi hija.''

Her Father said in his deep but gentle voice, smiling at her before turning his attention to pouring out the coffee he'd made. He wiggled the pot and Santana just nodded to make life easier. Plus she really liked her Dad's coffee. He also tried to dip his finger into whatever the stuff was in a silver bowl only to have his hand smacked by her Mom.

''Can we sit down?''

She suggested pointedly. Her parents shared an amused look at being bossed about by their daughter as Santana walked over to the stool at the island. She wanted them to stop what they were doing and focus.

''You want some ice cream, sweetheart?''

''No thanks.''

''You sure? I made it from scratch?''

Her Mother sing songed and wiggled a bowl. Santana sighed slowly and nodded in agreement with a small puff of hair.

''Si, whatever. Can you guys just sit down?''

She really didn't want to do this with them standing up. Or her Dad's handling a hot coffee pot. Or her Mom buzzing over homemade ice cream – however good it was. This was like – it, this was where life changed. She just needed them to sit the hell down.

A mug of coffee was slid in front of her along with a bowl of ice cream and finally her parents complied and sat down.

X – X – X – X

''Okay sweetheart. I'm listening.''

Just nodded definitively. Quinn felt like she wanted to throw up but her mask of confidence was firmly etched onto her face. She didn't want Judy to see any signs of weakness in case she thought that what she was about to say wasn't real or that she regretted it or something.

She didn't.

Finally, for once in her life, she felt good about something. She felt better. All the pain she had already been through had been reactions to things that she didn't understand. Well she sort of did understand them now and to hell if she was going to lose herself to expectations and pressures again. Quinn just wanted to be.

''Mom, there's something I need to tell you about myself. It may be hard for you to hear but I need you to really listen, okay? For me. Because this is a big deal. Actually, it's my whole life. It's something I kept trying to deny – something that I pretended I wasn't. And it didn't get me very far, I got pregnant because of it. All I've been is unhappy and miserable but…but being in glee club and seeing that it's okay…things have changed.

I can't fight it anymore. Not for you or anyone – because it hurts, so much. I can't live with that inside my chest anymore I just want to be happy like everyone else. I want to include you in that because I love you and I'm afraid because we've only just started to get right but…

I just have to say it. I'm gay, Mom. I'm attracted to girls and I can't force that down anymore. I don't want to.''

X – X – X – X

''Oh, do you want some chocolate sauce with your ice cream, I can…''

Santana shook her head in dismay because her Mother was about to move again.

'''Mamá, no – escúchame, por favor. I need to tell you something and I need you to let me and really hear me, okay? Can you do that?''

Her parents nodded silently, afraid that if they said anything more they would get told off again. Santana sighed softly in relief and rolled her shoulders and sat up a little straighter as she cleared her throat. Wow she was totally unprepared.

''Gracias. Okay. I've been keeping something inside, something I tried to ignore or fight away and it's just…it's exhausting. I know that you have all these dreams for me, and you've both tried to be there for me. I know I haven't been the easiest kid to raise. The truth is I've always known that I'm different. Even when I was little there was always something, and I lashed out at the world to try and protect myself.

All this time I've just been fighting with myself because I've been scared. But I can't. I just can't do it anymore and you can't keep dreaming those dreams or thinking you know me when you don't know me like you should because I haven't let you.

Some things have happened at school. And I wanted to tell you this myself when I was ready, I didn't know I was already ready. I just hope that I don't disappoint you because I love you both so much.

''Mamá, Papá – I'm attracted to girls. Actually, I have a girlfriend. I'm a lesbian.''

X – X – X - X

The air of confidence had wavered a little during her talking and the emotion and the fear showed in her eyes. How could it not, right? She knew this wasn't going to be easy to hear and it hurt that she believed in her gut that she would be cast off again. Abandoned by someone that was supposed to love her.

It already happened once but in some ways this might have been worse for her parents than getting pregnant in high school. They were so straight laced in wherever they saw fit. She was already pretty much a problem child already – nothing like her sister who was fucking perfect and obedient and did everything right.

Judy's face didn't really move. She didn't really move. She just stared at her with that Stepford Wife expression like she had been before – like there was literally no reaction. So Quinn waited for a couple of moments for the words and the meaning to set in.

Then she waited some more.

Then she just got downright uncomfortable and fidgety.

Her eyes began to water and she rubbed at them with the back of her hand.

''Say something.''

Judy blinked and focused on her properly.

''It's a phase.''

Quinn shook her head, stunned at the clarity in her Mother's eyes. She sniffed but that determined look came back onto her face.

''No, it's not. This is the way I am.''

''No, it's not. You've just been influenced by those…by those misfits. You're confused. You had relations with a boy, how can you possibly think this about yourself?''

Quinn flailed.

''One time – I had sex one time with a guy because I was drunk and I was trying to force this down. And it was…it was the worst experience of my life. It made me feel sick with myself. I felt…I felt like a whore, I felt disgusting because it wasn't right. And neither was stringing along boyfriends that I didn't really want – these are good guys and I can't do that to them. It's not right.''

''This isn't right, Lucy. It's a sin.''

X – X – X – X

Santana felt her stomach twist as she stopped talking and silence overtook the kitchen. It was deafening. She hadn't really come up with a major plan. She had just improvised what to say and now she thought about it she had no idea what to do if her parents were to blow up with anger. Is this what Quinn felt like everyday? Like she was permanently holding her breath because she was waiting for the explosion to come? It was horrible.

''Please say something. Please?''

She hadn't even realised that she had started crying until she opened her mouth again and begged her parents for some kind of reaction. God, any reaction would be better than this at this point.

''Santana, you're an adult now. You get to make your own choices in life.''

Santana shook her head as she cried still.

''It's not a choice, Mamá. I didn't choose to be this way, I just am.''

Her Mother held up a hand for Santana to stop and she did.

''Just listen to me. I know you didn't choose this, mi hija. Nobody ever does. It's hard to be different, you already know that. There are people out there that will try to make your life harder if you choose to tell them who you are. Do you understand that?''

''Si.''

Santana muttered glumly.

''You're ahead of your time, Santana. You've always seen into the world and into people and they've hurt you enough. It hurts me that you have more of it to come. But we've tried to prepare you the best we can and we would never expect you to hide who you are. And we've always seen who you are, whether you knew it or not.''

She looked up at them sharply, narrowing her eyes as she eyed both of them suspiciously.

''What do you mean?''

It escaped her attention so far that they were both smirking at her softly. Her Father rolled his shoulders, much like she tended to do, as his smirk widened.

''Seriously baby girl, did you think you really hid it that well?''

X – X – X – X

''It's not a sin! How can it be a sin when it's true and pure and I'm a good person? I love like I'm supposed to love!''

Quinn demanded heatedly, standing up from the footrest now because it just wasn't physically possibly to keep sitting. She needed to move, needed to do something.

''There's…I mean you…you've acted on…''

''There's a girl, yes. And I love her and she loves me.''

Judy glared at her.

''Who? Who did this to you?''

Quinn rolled her head back and chuckling in exasperation. Of course she had to have been corrupted. This was exactly what she had been expecting but her hope that it would be different somehow was stabbing into her now, making her regret it. Wasn't the definition of insanity repeating the same thing and expecting different results or something like that?

''No one did this to me. It's not a choice to be gay it's a choice to be proud – to be who you are. And I'm not hiding anymore. It's exhausting.''

''Quinn you're so young. You don't understand these things, the way the world works. You've never been through anything to teach you that.''

''Oh no, I've just you know – felt so awful about myself I had plastic surgery with my parents' approval, felt so awful I had sex with a guy and got pregnant – got abandoned by my parents and lost that baby because I had no choice but to give her up considering I had no way to take care of her.

That's not going through anything?''

Judy stood up too and as she took a step toward her daughter Quinn shook her head and backed away, far too suspicious and wounded and distrustful.

''Whatever. This isn't the point anyway. I'm telling you because you're my Mom – I'm a lesbian. I have a girlfriend. And with or without your acceptance that is going to be my life. I'm going to college in a few months – so I guess its up to you whether we see each other in the future.''

''Go to your room.''

X – X – X – X

''What? I'm sorry – I meant what?''

They what? They couldn't possibly have known. She was far too sneaky and subtle. They had never said a word in indication that she knew. They couldn't claim this now like they were all insightful that was so not fair. It was throwing her completely off her game too. Not that she had any game whatsoever right now. Stupid parents.

''A Mother knows her daughter, Santana.''

''And a Father knows his little girl. We're your parents, baby girl. We see you. We didn't know exactly what was wrong but we knew you were hurting, and we kept trying to let you know that you were here. But I guess that you had to work things out for yourself first. And when you suddenly started being happier, happier than we've ever seen you – even when you joined that glee club, we know something had changed.''

Santana's jaw had literally dropped. Her Mother laughed and her eyes drifted from her Dad to her.

''You have a crappy poker face, sweetheart. Every time your friend Quinn is here your eyes shine, and you look at each other like lovers are supposed to look at each other. Obviously this girl has your heart, and you have hers. Love is love, mi hija.

Right before our eyes you've gone from being a sweet little girl to a strong, beautiful and independent woman. The only thing that I'm disappointed in is that you actually thought you'd disappoint us. You're our daughter. When you have children of your own you'll know what that means.''

The next thing Santana really registered was being in a little huddle, squished between her parents and just being so very relieved. There was a moment there that she thought that this was going to be so awful and her life would be turned upside down but they were here for. They were right here and she couldn't be more grateful.

It made a world of difference to have them support her like that.

X – X – X – X

''What?''

Seriously? This was her solution? To send her to her room like a naughty child that had misbehaved over dinner? It was ridiculous. Quinn felt as though she had crossed into bizarre-o land.

''Quinn, I need to…I can't just hear this and just know how to deal with it. You're a complicated, confusing girl.''

Quinn shook her head and squared up as that HBIC cold expression morphed onto her face. It seemed to startle Judy a little bit but she was glad about that, because this expression was partly made by her parents. By her having to hide behind a mask in front of them.

''If you're going to kick me out just do it now, I'm ready for it.''

''What?''

''I have my things ready so just…do it.''

There was a long pause and Quinn felt her heart thundering against her chest. She wished that Santana was here to hold her hand. For her to look in her eyes and find her centre of gravity again because she felt like she was spinning out of control. If she was here it would be better and she could just hold her and the world would go away.

''It's a sin, Lucy. It frightens me to hear you say that it's not. It's wrong, and perverted and disgusting. You cannot be this way just to get attention, I won't have it.''

Quinn let out a slow breathe, she supposed she had her answer. She dropped her head down as a tear slid out of her eye and she cleared her throat as she tried to contain the storm of emotions that were raging through her right now.

''I wasn't asking for your attention, I was asking you for your love and support. You know, the things I'm supposed to be able to take for granted? You've never come through for me, not once.''

''You try being a Mother to a bad seed. You've brought nothing but shame on this family. Just go. Go if you insist on living like that. God will punish you.''

Quinn back away and shook her head.

''Not before he punishes you.''

And then she was gone. As expected. She had already taken everything important and valuable to her. Her trunk was full of what she had packed up and the things she left she wasn't attached to. She had what she needed and she ran out into the darkness – forcing herself not to cry or break down in front of her Mother. Not this time.

X – X – X – X

By the time that Quinn knocked on the front door of the Lopez house she was disorientated and pretty much in a state of shock and numbness. She was shaking and she was sluggish and confused. When the door opened she blinked against the light in the hallway and for a moment she didn't even register that her girlfriend's Mother was stood at the door.

''Quinn? Honey, are you okay you're shaking.''

Quinn blinked up at her.

''I…I'm sorry Mrs. Lopez, I know it's late. Is it…could I maybe stay here tonight? It's okay if you don't want me here I can ask Rachel.''

Santana's Mom shook her head and reached out to gently shuffle her into the house and out of the chill in the air. Quinn blinked again because everything was bright and her eyes were stinging because she had been crying. Apparently no matter how much you prepared it still gutted you just as much.

''Of course you can, sweetie. What happened?''

It's like the tenderness and affection in Mrs. Lopez's tone just kicked out that last straw she was using to keep herself from falling apart but when the older woman squeezed her shoulder gently the flood gates opened and she ended up bursting into tears right there in the hallway. Mrs. Lopez instantly wrapped her arms around her and held her close.

Why couldn't her own Mother be more like Santana's? Why did it hurt so much to be disowned by a woman that Quinn wasn't sure she even liked or wanted to be around? It was fucked up.

''Santana, come quickly mi hija.''

Santana appeared in the hallway a moment later, followed by her curious and concerned Father, and instantly her face dropped its smile and hurt slammed across it for her girlfriend. She didn't need to ask what had happened – the fact that Quinn was here dissolving into fits of sobs told her everything and she was both sad for her and angry on her behalf.

But she couldn't do anything about Quinn's family. She couldn't change their attitude or the way they had already treat their daughter or how she had been treated tonight. What she could do was be there for her and love her like she promised. She could be all the family she needed and get her through this anyway she could.

Santana pried Quinn off of her Mother who stepped back, obviously upset and probably understanding of what had happened, and Quinn literally clung to her. Her hands fisted the material of her shirt as she shook in her arms and just cried – sobbed – wailed, whatever it was anyone wanted to call it. Santana cried too because how could she not when her girlfriend was like this?

They sank to the floor because Quinn was too far gone to keep upright and Santana couldn't hold her up forever, so she just lowered her girlfriend to the floor and held onto her tightly and rocked her – whispering that it was going to be okay and she was there, and that she loved her.

''Let me take her, sweetheart.''

It was around a half hour later that Santana realised that everything was silent and Quinn was still, finally having passed out into a fitful sleep in her arms. She blinked and realised her Dad was crouched in front of them and carefully she tipped Quinn his way and let him lift her up in his arms and carry her upstairs.

Santana swallowed thickly and took her Mother's hand to help her off of the floor as she wiped her eyes and got pulled in for a hug.

''I should've talked her out of this. This is my fault.''

''No, baby, it's not. All either of you did was fall in love. Her Mother should know better. It's okay Santana, you go be with Quinn – tell her it's going to be okay. It's going to hurt but we're her family now. Go make sure she knows she's not alone.''

Santana looked up at her Mother and her mouth opened to say something but she had no idea what to say. Words didn't seem enough. She saw that resolved look in her face though, and she knew that tomorrow would be difficult but at least a little easier than it could have been. Quinn wouldn't be alone and they only had the future to come.

So she did what she was told and went to her room and didn't let go of Quinn once.


	6. Faith

''I'll be right over there if you need me, girls.''

Santana flicked a hand dismissively as she stepped up to the physiotherapy table and therefore up close to her girlfriend.

''Yeah, yeah – I got this Dave.''

Yes, Santana Lopez was determined. She had taken lessons and practiced and read up on this shit, it wasn't so hard – she could totally be a physiotherapist. You know, if she weren't so hell bent on being a famous singer. Otherwise, she totally could do this shit.

Dave The Physio chuckled and walked away across the large space that consisted of the physiotherapy room – a room that both Santana and Quinn were now well acquainted with after the accident.

''That was rude, San.''

Quinn reprimanded lightly, sort of half-heartedly because she knew that Santana hadn't been snapping at him, she was just eager to get stuck in. The Latina was her biggest enthusiast right now – even over her Mother. It was actually pretty damn remarkable how she had been through all of this.

She hated to admit it, really she did – but part of Quinn had been expecting Santana to run a mile when all of this happened. Sure they had been doing well in their relationship and they were almost at a years mark, and they had done all the 'I love you' exchanges and things. They had gotten through Santana being forced out of the closet and having to tell her parents she was gay – and Quinn had in turn had a sit down with her Mother.

Judy was…coping. She wasn't overjoyed by the situation but she was dealing and trying her best, and Quinn couldn't exactly ask for more than that. She had hoped for more, considering, but as long as Judy was making an effort then she could live in peace with that. And her Mom actually did like Santana – that fondness had increased as of late with all the help she had been giving them both.

It's not that Quinn thought her girlfriend was hollow or shallow – sure she had her moments like everyone, but really she was deep and insightful and she felt everything. But they were teenagers facing their last year in school, and this was a pretty damn major thing. Quinn didn't like to think about this not being temporary, but there was the slight possibility that it would be permanent.

Either way, it was a hard slog. Even when they had been made to use wheelchairs Quinn hadn't really understood the inability to move and how it changed everything. She had respected and liked Artie a lot before but damn had her respect multiplied through the roof.

''He laughed Q, it's all good.''

Quinn rolled her eyes and just focused on what they were doing. She rested her head on her arm and just watched Santana concentrate on moving and bending her leg. It was so weird, she could feel the pressure, the warmth of Santana's hands – but she couldn't feel it. Not yet. But right after the accident she couldn't even feel the pressure or the temperature so she figured it was still a step in the right direction.

''You know I kinda like having you at my mercy, baby.''

Santana looked up and winked evilly and Quinn gasped lightly as she dropped her jaw.

''Santana! Don't mock the invalid!''

She squeaked out another reprimand. Her girlfriend was insufferable – seriously. The Latina just got that mischievous and devilish smirk and look across her face and yes, she had to admit it, it did things to Quinn.

Plus she was looking all hot as usual. Just in some red shorts and a black McKinley athletics t-shirt with her hair tied up – but seriously, Santana could probably wear a garbage bag and still look like the hottest thing on earth. She was just innately beautiful. Quinn missed physically connected with her – it wasn't the sex, it was the sheer amount of contact that got lost when you had to sit in a wheelchair.

They couldn't really hand hold much – Quinn would either be pushing herself around or Santana would be. They couldn't sit on one another like they sometimes did, because she couldn't move and up until recently Quinn's back and been in a state of vulnerability. They hadn't been able to hug properly or lie together properly, or lean into one another or any simple things that she had always taken for granted.

It could be difficult, but they found ways around these things and every time Quinn had gotten frustrated and spiralled Santana had been there to help her deal with it.

''What? You can't tease me by getting me all hot and bothered then skipping off and leaving me high and dry. You just gotta commit and sex me up – I like it!''

Quinn blushed because Santana was not being any kind of discreet about announcing this, and she looked around to check if anyone was nearby – thankfully nobody was. Then she realised something else and her eyes widened in shock as she stared at her girlfriend who was currently lifting her leg right up and pressing into it.

''Santana! Are you…oh my god!''

Now she really did blush and she bit her lip as she covered her eyes and half her face with her hand.

''I can't believe you're turned on right now.''

She snapped in a husky whisper. Santana scoffed and rolled her shoulders, looking completely unabashed about the situation.

''Oh Blondie – you should know by know I'm always turned on arounds you. But c'mon Q – this shit is hot. I'm all pressed up against your business, it's not my fault. Stop being so damn sexy and I'll stop getting turned on.''

Quinn peeped out from under her hand, still blushing, and Santana grinned at her with a cocky and playful wink. Seriously – insufferable, why she expected that to change through this Quinn didn't know. Santana was still as much of a horn dog and though things had obviously changed, they still managed to get it on.

That was another little meltdown moment of hers. She had tried to push Santana away because she was hurting and vulnerable and she was having to depend on everybody when she was so used to doing things for herself. She had been convinced that Santana couldn't possibly find her sexy anymore – but the Latina had proved her wrong. She had literally swept her off of her…wheelchair, she guessed.

''Only you would get turned on during physio, Lopez.''

Santana shrugged nonchalantly as she continued her business.

''Wanky. A happy by product of helping my baby get back on her feet.''

Quinn swallowed the razor blade lump in her throat as she gazed up at her girlfriend needly.

''What if…what if I don't?''

''Don't what?''

''Get back on my feet.''

Santana looked up, her dark eyes having gone from playful mischief to more serious and contemplative. Quinn hadn't said a lot to anyone about her fears yet, she had just been flat out denying that this would last. Santana knew she was thinking about it though. In her outbursts and her tears and her silent moments – she knew that's what was whispering away in her head.

''If you don't, you don't, Q. Lots of people live happy lives in wheelchairs – look at Wheels, he's okay.''

Quinn swallowed again and her eyes stung with tears that were beginning to pool there, and her head shook slightly.

''I can't handle that.''

Santana locked their eyes and stared right into her.

''Quinn, you can handle anything. And I can promise you that I'll be right there to help you handle it.''

''Don't promise that.''

''I will promise that. It's true. You think a chair will really make me stop loving you? If we don't make it Q, it won't be because of this. It'll be because we just couldn't. But…being with you has given me faith in things like love. So I have faith in you, and me and us together. And whether you're dancing by National's or you never walk again, I'm going to love you.

And I have no illusions on how difficult it's going to be either way. Life sucks here but there's the big wide world waiting for us, and half of it is going to say stuff about who we are. So I figure we got no choice but to stick together and just get each other through that shit.

Plus, I seriously doubt I could find another girl to put up with me. I'm kind of difficult, I hear.''

Quinn sniffed and reached out to take Santana's hand as those tears did slide out of her eyes. Santana said everything like it should be obvious. Like she had thought about this and made plans in her head for either which way things turned out.

Last time at National's Quinn had freaked out because she had been so unhappy. She had been walking and dancing and taking things like that for granted, but so very miserable. And now she was in a wheelchair and she was probably one of the happiest people alive. Because she had hope and she had someone like Santana that loved her that much, and she loved her just as much.

They had sort of saved one another, in a way.

''Not that difficult.''

Santana smiled and squeezed Quinn's hand before bending over to kiss it softly.

''So, are we done worrying about that now?''

''Yes, thank you.''

''Okay, so let's get our physio on, mi amor. Then I can takes you home and do you in the shower!''

Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes. And there was her typical hormone driven girlfriend again. Neither of them said anything for a good 20 minutes – they just went through their routines and without even saying the words Santana just communicated her encouragement when Quinn struggled. They both concentrated on what they were doing and Quinn tried to push herself to accomplish more, because this was a work through the pain kind of deal.

''Santana?''

''Yeah babe?''

Quinn smiled, she was hot and a little sweaty and was a little thankful to be taking a moment's pause, but she was still happy and positive and enthused.

''I love you.''

Santana smiled and leant over the side of the table to brush a soft, sweet kiss on those lips that she craved all of the time. She stood back up again and helped Quinn drink some water, stroking her damp hair aside, before she leant back down and kissed her again.

''I love you too, beautiful.''


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows the first Leave

Quinn smiled as she heard the glass door of the large shower cubicle click open, a body step in, and click shut again. It was half a second later that hands slid onto her hips and slid forward until arms were encompassing her and a luscious body was pressed into her back.

The hot spray of the shower pulsed down on her but it did nothing to disguise the feel of hot breath on her skin before she felt a kiss being placed in the crook of her shoulder by the same mouth that had wreaked holy blissful pleasure on her for most of the night. She was just hoping that her voice would even out by the time she got home, because right now it was a little hoarse.

''I rolled over and you weren't there.''

Santana whispered hotly against her neck, no particular tone – just husk. Her fingers sprawled out along Quinn's abs, applying just enough pressure to be slightly tantalising. Her voice was still mixed up with sleep as well as lust and the underlying love that she felt.

Too many mornings she rolled over and Quinn wasn't there – too many nights she cuddled up with a pillow because Quinn wasn't there. She couldn't be there, because she had a husband that expected her in the bed that they shared together.

It was getting harder. Pretending that this was enough. It stung every time she thought about the woman she loved with him. And then it stung some more because she actually loved Sam; he was a great friend that she didn't want to be jealous of or resentful toward. They were hurting him, not the other way around, but she couldn't help but get irrationally angry sometimes toward him just because he was married to Quinn.

He got to spend more time with her, he got to touch her where and when he wanted – he got to sleep next to her every night. They had a life together. And he could give her what she could never, ever hope to – children. Sure they could have kids and all, and that was great. But Santana could never provide the seed like he did. She was biologically ill equipped.

She had to tell herself over and over again that Quinn loved her. She had to tell herself over and over again that Quinn loved her.

''You looked so peaceful that I didn't want to wake you.''

Quinn turned around in Santana's arms, her green eyes glowing as they studied the Latina's features.

''You are so beautiful.''

She whispered with her own husky tone, it was like a soft murmur, but sincere and almost awed. She lifted up a hand to trace the soft, tan skin of the brunette's face with the pad of her finger – gently running it across Santana's lower lip before she leant in and kissed her soundly. Tongue greeted tongue and lips smacked and clashed together.

Quinn didn't want this to end. She didn't want to get out of the shower and face reality, but she knew that very shortly she had to return home. She had a family – a husband and children that needed her. They needed her – Santana needed her…it made this all so impossible.

It was hanging over them like a guillotine. The sharp blade ready to fall and instantly cut through the haze that they had been in since Quinn had arrived yesterday. She had met Santana during the day at the recording studios downtown, and had enjoyed listening to her work like she always did. They had gone to dinner and then came back here to Santana's apartment, using every second they possibly could to just be together.

It wasn't just the sex; it wasn't all about just that. It was the time they spent holding one another and talking. It was so intimate and personal – it was special. They trusted one another; they opened up and bared things that were rarely shown to other people.

It worked. They worked – the only problem in the whole scenario was that one of them was betraying a husband and one was betraying a friend. And it was killing them both, slowly but surely.

So they took one last opportunity to sate one another. To taste skin and sink fingers into heat, to provoke powerful sensations and see stars and to just feel. The water that cascaded from the shower barely a blip on their radar as they just gave way to the magnetic pull between them.

But as they held against one another, panting, Santana's head resting against the top of Quinn's shoulder – she couldn't stop the words from surfacing from the box that she tried to keep them stuffed into. Because why on earth would she want to cause trouble for herself? Why on earth would she want to rock the boat and pull this particular thread, knowing where it lead?

''Are you having sex with him?''

Quinn frowned, her blood still echoed through her ears and the shower continued to pour so for a moment she thought that she had misheard – or perhaps just imagined Santana's voice. But the Latina's body had tensed slightly. Gone was the easy and relaxed demeanour of her body – it had contorted into a classic, tighter and protective kind of stance, and the one she used to physical brace herself for impact or distance herself from something that she didn't like.

See, Quinn knew Santana's body that well – but she also knew her that well. Which meant that if she lied right now, Santana would know. And there was enough lying going on in both of their lives right now.

''Santana…''

It was a plea to not pursue this, which of course was an answer within itself, but Santana lifted her head up and looking Quinn square in the eyes.

''Quinn, are you having sex with Sam or not?''

Quinn bit her bottom lip as she stared at her lover. She didn't know whether she could call her a girlfriend or not. Could you really have a girlfriend if you were married already? She didn't know, she wasn't actually sure if she wanted to know because this all hurt so much.

''Yes.''

A small, sharp breath left Santana's throat and she ducked her head though didn't move away from the blonde. Quinn took her face into her hands and lifted it up so they could look at one another again.

''It isn't very often, okay? We barely touch each other, let alone that.''

Santana swallowed the lump in her throat and withdrew her head back and shrugged coolly.

''No, it's fine. You're married to him. It's fine, just forget I brought it up.''

''Baby, I'm sorry.''

Santana did take a step back now and didn't let her eyes meet Quinn's. She didn't know what she was thinking by asking, she knew that it happened. She knew she shouldn't be the one that got upset about it. Sam had every right to be with his wife, right? He probably thought that Quinn just needed some space, and maybe they would start humping like rabbits like they used to when she was ready to again. He was kind of a gentleman like that. They had had two children – he probably thought that Quinn was bound to have some sort of lull.

He loved her – it's not like she could blame him for that. Not really.

''When ugh…when was the last time?''

Quinn frowned in shock as she dropped her jaw slightly.

''What?''

Santana gave her a sharp glare.

''When did you fuck him last, Quinn?''

She yelled abruptly, actually causing Quinn to flinch slightly because it caught her off guard. She wasn't scared she just hadn't expected the sudden volume – or the bitterness behind it. But really, was that all so surprising? Santana was a possessive kind of woman. She ran hot all of the time, and she was passionate and raw. It really actually wasn't surprising that she struggled with this. Even she did – because every time that Sam did touch her, she felt wrong. She felt like pushing him aside and telling him he had no right to touch her, because that was Santana's right. She felt like being offended that he even thought about it.

But she did love him, and she knew that things would get even worse if they stopped completely because he would get worried and want to talk it out. He wouldn't stop until he found the truth. And the truth lead directly to Santana.

''I am not doing this with you.''

''I want to know.''

''No! You don't. You want to hate him but you can't. He doesn't know, and I'm his wife. It doesn't mean that I feel the same way as I do when I'm with you. I have to imagine it's you.''

Quinn's voice got shaky as tears escaped her eyes, she felt like she had been sucker punched or something. She felt disorientated and as though her world was being ripped apart at the seams. It was always coming – there was always a point where everything was going to self-destruct. That she and Santana would start to bleed too, because of her inability to make the hard decisions – she didn't want to hurt anybody, but instead she was hurting everybody.

''Does he make you cum?''

''Stop it.''

''Does he make you hot and wet? Do you moan and pant and beg when he's fucking you? Do you ask for more? How fast does it take for you to drop your panties and spread open for him, Quinn? Do you screw him and then come to me to get the best of both?''

Quinn's eyes darkened angrily as she shoved Santana forcefully, making her stagger back a little.

''Fuck you. Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? I know I'm hurting you but don't ever say anything like that to me again. You think that it's easy to end a marriage? You think it's easy to rip apart and entire family? You don't, so shut the fuck up. I'm doing my best. And I know you love Sam too, you know that I don't want him the way I want you. But it's Sam – and I married him and I have babies with him, and that's a lot of history to just end, okay? He's my friend…you are both my family, and one way or another I end up hurting and losing somebody. That's my fault but it's still just as crushing. I am doing my best.''

Quinn pushed her way passed the Latina and fumbled out of the shower cubicle in a state of crying and sniffling because she just couldn't take any more venom from Santana. Even though she deserved it she couldn't take it. Especially not over having sex with her husband. It really wasn't any kind of regular but she knew that didn't mean a damn thing to Santana, because all she'd be able to think about was him touching her. Quinn felt like she cheated on Santana every time that she did sleep with Sam – no matter how irregular it was, and it was a worse feeling than actually just cheating on him all together. She didn't expect Santana to understand that because she had never been in this position. She had never cheated on anybody, or gotten married and had children and then realised she was in love with somebody completely different. She didn't know what this felt like, and Quinn didn't want her to.

And she knew that the longer she hesitated over leaving Sam the more Santana felt unworthy and like she was being used, or that Quinn didn't love her or like it wasn't real or something. But at the same time it was just like she had said, it was a lot of history to just end.

It didn't help that Santana had inadvertently hit a nerve because she'd slept with Sam last week. It was freaking amazing how a good supply of wine and music caught you off guard.

Quinn tried herself off and got dressed in silence in Santana's guest room after grabbing her stuff. She knew that the Latina had gotten out of the shower too because she heard noises, and when she was ready she wished that she could just take everything back. Maybe the trigger had been leaving Santana's arms this morning – if she could she would have just stayed there, basking in her warmth.

When she ventured out of the bedroom and further into Santana's apartment, she heard the Latina's voice drifting from her office and she walked to the doorway to see her pacing in front of her desk on the phone. She looked up at her, but her expression was reserved and guarded.

''You going?''

Quinn nodded.

''Yeah.''

''Fine. I guess I'll see you at the weekend for Finn's party.''

Santana's tone was dismissive and cold and brutal, but she was hurting so she was lashing out. Quinn just nodded again and Santana turned her back on her and continued her conversation on the phone. Quinn watched her for a moment, dejected, and then eventually let herself out and went on her way.

X – X – X – X

To Quinn there was little on this earth that could dilute the power of love for her children. The joy that came from connecting with them, from protecting them and raising them and teaching them – it was immeasurable. They were the most important things in the world to her.

She was definitely a Mama bear. If you messed with the Fabray girls you messed with her, and she would go out of her way to mess up your world. She'd do anything for these girls; they were her babies she had made them. How anyone found it in themselves to hurt their kids – to abuse them in anyway or neglect them, she couldn't fathom. It just didn't fit inside of her head. She looked at those two little beautiful faces and she just couldn't understand how it could happen.

They were so goddamn amazing – these phenomenal little people that were made out of her. She could feel them, every single second of every day. No matter what she was doing, she knew they were there, her body and her being felt them and it never went away.

She knew when something was wrong with either one of them. Like she had known that Carly was very ill when she was 2 – she had woken up in the dead of night with a strange, unsettled feeling and when she had gone to check on her toddler she had been burning with fever. She had just known something was wrong and right away she'd woken Sam up and they'd rushed her to the hospital.

When she asked for a scan when she was pregnant with Isabelle the Doctor thought she was crazy, but she had insisted and sure enough there had been something wrong with her heart. It was okay now, she was strong and healthy like it had never existed, but without that knowing it may not have been picked up in time to be fixed.

She knew when they were upset, she knew when they were hungry, she knew when they had bad dreams and she knew when they were hurting. She just knew them because she was their Mother and she felt them. They were part of her.

Immediately when she had arrived home she was kidnapped by her excited daughter's and stolen away to hide in their princess castle in the garden. They lived just outside of the city, the house was a big family house with a garden to play in and the street was safe. They got to run around and play together and their dog, who was technically Quinn's but had abandoned her to be the girls' best friend and protector. He was a big lug but he was gentle with the babies and very, very protective. He would put himself in front of them and anyone he didn't trust.

''What're we playing?''

Quinn smirked as Carly set a crown on top of her head and Isabelle clambered all over her like a human climbing frame, adamant to stand on her legs and wrap her arms around her neck and plant sloppy kisses all over her face.

''We is princesses 'n you is da queen!''

Carly stated happily. There was a table with plastic finery laid out on it, and a host of teddy bears and other stuffed animals all lined up or sat in strategic places, some with cups in front of them and little haphazardly made crowns pinned onto their heads. The dog, Arrow, sat at the end of the table, panting but happy and obedient.

''Dwink dis Mommy!''

Carly thrust a chalice at Quinn so she took it with a chuckle and pretended to sip the non-existent drink.

''Magic potion!''

Isabelle hummed happily, bouncing on Quinn heavily – she just loved being a human bouncy castle. Quinn kissed her little face and then tickled her a little bit, making her laugh harder before she reached out and grabbed Carly to pull her into the little huddle of kisses, hugs and cuddles. Then of course Arrow woofed and joined in!

That's how they were found – in a little huddle of love when Sam stuck his head through the door curiously.

''Do I get to play?''

The girls squealed because their Daddy was home – last night had been a night with their Grandma who was still in the house somewhere, Sam had gone out on a 'boys night' and Quinn had made plans with Santana.

Carly jumped up and pulled him in, and he knocked his head on the door because she yanked him in so fast.

''Yous has to sit there Daddy. Mommy is da queen and…and yous is her king. She in charge doe.''

Quinn lifted up an amused eyebrow as Sam scoffed as his daughter bossed him into the space next to his wife.

''Yeah, and you take just after her.''

He drawled sarcastically, earning a glare from both of them. His eyes widened as he looked between the two of them, even Isabelle looked like she was attempting that patented look of reprimand that Quinn had always been so good at as she sat on her Mother's knee.

''Wow, that's just freaky.''

Carly huffed dramatically before lunging a cup at him. Quinn got a chalice but apparently kinds just got ordinary cups, but he just shrugged and took it, pretending to drink whatever was supposed to be in there.

And to anyone on the outside for the next 15 minutes they were just an ordinary, happy family. They were laughing and talking and singing a little bit, Carly was definitely directing this playtime and was content in jabbering away about fairytales and the random plot that she had concocted in her head. In between that they managed to weed out what she and Isabelle had done in their absence and whether they had behaved for their Grammy. Apparently they had, but they would be checking that out with her, just in case.

Even little angels had their wilder days.

As the time went by though Quinn began to feel weird. She shrugged it off and smiled at her kids and cuddled Isabelle who still happily sat on her knee, obviously feeling a little clingy today. Sometimes you had to chase her and grab her up if you wanted a snuggle because she would be off doing 'big girl' things and being all independent. Usually following her sister all over and idolising the crap out of her.

Quinn knew this feeling but she didn't want to register it in her head.

''Sam, take Iz.''

Quinn lifted Isabelle off of her knee and held her toward Sam, who looked at her with confusion.

''What?''

''Seriously, take her – right now.''

Sam took his daughter and Quinn bolted out of the castle and ran up to the house. She completely ignored her Mother-in-law that sat listening to the radio in the kitchen as something cooked in the oven, and only just managed to make it to the downstairs toilet before she was on her knees and hurling her guts up into it.

''Quinn? Honey, are you okay?''

There was a light tap on the door as Mary's voice filtered through it, full of concern.

''I'm fine, Mary, thanks. I'll be out in a minute.''

Only half certain that she had finished now, Quinn slumped down next to the toilet as she flushed it and panted lightly. This could seriously not be happening to her. It wasn't even funny. But she just knew, because she had just known the last two times this had happened to her. She knew what this feeling was, and it had been the same kind of timing as those times too. She knew her body pretty well, and this wasn't some bug or stress or whatever. She wasn't sick.

She was pregnant.


	8. Weepy Drunk

It was almost 4am when Santana stumbled into the quiet, still loft. Her girlfriend had been nice enough to leave on some soft lamps for her return so that she could see. It may or may not help with the not falling over and breaking things because she was drunk, just because she could see didn't necessarily mean she would be able to coordinate her body.

The Latina paused for a moment to get her bearings before she locked the door behind her. Then in a stroke of absolute genius she slipped out of her heels – groaning slightly because it was so good to get out of those – and shoved them onto the side table. Why the side table? She had no idea it just seemed like a great idea.

The next thing that the inebriated woman did was swagger along toward the kitchen – bumping and subsequently shushing an archway wall as she went – to get some water. She smirked as she saw a bottle sat on the counter next to some pills with a post it note.

Take these before you come to bed and pass out, sweetie.

The neat scrawl of her lover made her smile and Santana did as she was instructed to do. She had been a lot drunker than this in her life and she wasn't quite at that pass out stage, but she was very nicely buzzed. She had actually stopped drinking over an hour ago and instead had been chugging down orange juice and doing a lot of dancing.

After finishing the water and having taken the pills Santana began to make her way toward the bedroom. She tried to be as quiet as possible and slowly opened the door and crept in. It was darkened but the en suit bathroom light was on and the door was open enough to spread some light to see – and it was quiet.

The head of the ever faithful English bullmastiff of Quinn's popped up – he was sprawled across her side of the bed and made a deep grunting noise and his tail began to thump the bed as he saw that it was only Santana and not some murderer or something. He was almost as heavy as her and Quinn's weight combined and could have probably snapped them like a twig but he was such a gentle sweetheart that it was just unimaginable.

''Move over!''

Santana 'whispered' – unable to stop the affectionate smirk as Apollo simply stared at her, reluctant to leave his comfortable position.

''Apollo! Off!''

She flailed and clicked her fingers and with a groan he hefted himself up and walked down the ridiculously huge bed and hopped down, walking over to her to give her a loving nudge and she scratched his head before he walked over to his massive doggy bed by the window that was pretty much a wall. He liked the view Quinn said.

Now she just had to get out of her dress – which was kind of easier said than done. She grunted as she tried to peel the red fabric that was apparently moulded to her. Seriously, was it like a freaking second skin or something?

''You know, you are not a quiet drunk.''

Santana blinked as a bedside lamp was switched on and after a moment of being dazed by that she smiled at the woman she loved who sat up in bed with an amused and sleepy lop sided smirk as she ran a hand through her floppy blonde hair probably so she could see, given that it went everywhere. That was ridiculously sexy if Santana didn't think so herself – when they had met Quinn had had long tresses and the Latina had loved them, but she also loved this shorter choppy style too – because really, Quinn could probably shave her head and still be the most beautiful woman in the world.

''Lo siento, mami. I tried.''

Quinn chuckled and pushed the dark cover off of her so she could crawl over the bed and kneel in front of her girlfriend. Most people would probably be annoyed at being woken up at close to 4 in the morning but Quinn was slightly amused and she thought Santana drunk was really cute.

''It's okay; you're not exactly quiet at anything! Did you have a good time?''

Santana nodded as she let Quinn pull the side zip of her dress down easily.

''Si, but I missed you. I wish you had been there.''

Quinn grunted as she pulled Santana's dress up and over her head – aided by the Latina lifting up her arms compliantly.

''I know baby, but I was just so tired. I'm glad you had a good time though, have you had your weepy session yet?''

Quinn had had a tough week filming at work and so when Santana's music crew had invited her to the 3 birthday's celebration she had reluctantly turned it out. She probably could have wiggled into a dress and strapped on some heels and forced herself to stay awake but really – the only thing she had been desperate to do was come home, eat and collapse into bed. Hell she hadn't even made it to 9pm before she was sprawled across the bed and face planted into her pillow.

She wasn't one of those girlfriend's that insisted they do everything as a couple – Santana and she did plenty of things separately so she had told her to go and have a great time with her friends and do some drinking and dancing. The Latina had been working hard too so why not let off a little steam?

The dress came off and Quinn tossed it over toward a chair across from the bed and then looked back up at her girlfriend who now had her hands on her hips and was looking sideways and trying not to burst out into tears. Quinn smiled – evidently not.

''No…''

''Aww baby, c'mere.''

Quinn couldn't help but chuckle lightly as she tilted forward and wrapped her arms around a sniffling Latina. Seriously, the girl could just not drink without getting weepy at some point, because she was a sweet weepy drunk that got all clingy. It was really sweet actually – somehow a usually composed Santana turned into an emotional little girl that needed a lot of comforting and lots of love and snuggles. Quinn didn't mind, the 'weepy session' would pass after a little while and she'd just be drunk again, but it was a cute side quirk of Santana's.

''You're just so blonde, Q – and so beautiful and smart…like seriously smart and you leave water out and lamps on and have a dog twice your size and you're so understanding and I just love you so much, you're just so awesome and a total whore in the sack and so fucking talented…you're like – perfect and I just…I have so many feelings.''

Santana rambled out barely pausing for breath as she sniffed and let the emotions sweep over her because she did have all of these feelings. She always had a lot of feelings but she just didn't usually let them all sweep around her like this – she channelled them – she wrote songs and sang them. Singing was good – but she didn't think she should break into song right now; Apollo might start howling along or something.

She hand her arms wrapped around Quinn too as the blonde held her and rubbed her back and let her ramble and she nuzzled her face to the top of her head and sniffed again. God she could be pathetic.

''I know you do sweetie, and I love you too.''

Santana guffawed and squeaked at the same time somehow as she pulled Quinn back to look at her face – haphazardly cupping it with her hands and not realising she was squishing it a little bit.

''But you're like a freaking goddess and I'm…''

Quinn put her hand over her girlfriend's mouth and she didn't hear what came out of her mouth because it was too muffled, but that was the point. She stretched herself out a little more to be able to reach up and place a delicate kiss on Santana's mouth. She tasted like tequila and other assorted alcohol and Quinn was pretty sure that her girlfriend might have sneaked in a couple of smokes, and she also tasted salty from her tears – but she didn't care. Because underneath all of that was Santana and the way she always tasted and that was the only taste she wanted for the rest of her life.

They had been together for two and a half years – after the two-year mark they had decided to live together and it was great. They had a good life together and they understood one another's time constraints when they occurred but they supported one another in each other's endeavours. Being a celebrity couple could be hard but they reserved a lot of things for themselves – they kept the brunt of their relationship private and were just like any other couple, at the end of the day.

Santana would forget to put the cap on the toothpaste and walked around in her underwear at inappropriate times, and she had a borderline obsession with breadsticks and she made plenty of comments about the hotness of other women. But that was Santana and Quinn loved her and she wouldn't take her any other way. Even when she got stroppy and closed off and shouted at her and took too long to understand what she had said or done that was hurtful or offensive – because she didn't mean to be hurtful or offensive.

''You're the love of my life, Santana Carmelita Lopez – and don't you forget it. You're beautiful, you're sexy, you're a wonderful person and you are the woman of my dreams.''

Santana pouted, sniffed, but was calmer and picked imaginary lint off of Quinn's t-shirt – a t-shirt that she had stolen from Santana herself because it smelt like her and she loved it – it was a Cheerio's t-shirt so pretty old but still intact. Quinn had laughed so hard when she found out that the Latina had been a head cheerleader, it was very surprising yet not surprising at all at the same time. She was also pretty happy that Santana had kept her cheerleading uniform. Very happy actually.

''Even when I'm a weepy hysterical drunk?''

Quinn placed another kiss on Santana's pouty lips.

''Especially when you're a weepy hysterical drunk.''

That earned her an 'I don't believe you but that was so sweet of you to say' smirk. Quinn smiled and brushed away Santana's tears and she knew that the slightly shorter woman was levelling out again and her weepy fest was more or less over.

''You know what makes me feel better?''

Quinn lifted an eyebrow at the tone that slipped out in that question – it was unmistakable and even if it hadn't filtered through she knew where that question was heading to. And she definitely wasn't apposed to fooling around with her girlfriend. Actually, considering that she had been holding her while she was half naked in black lacy 'fuck me' lingerie Quinn thought she'd done a damn good job not just throwing her down and having at it right away.

''Sex?''

Santana laughed and stroked through Quinn's hair as she nodded.

''Sex. You know me so well, baby.''

Quinn just laughed into a kiss that Santana initiated at the same time as she pushed her backward to flop onto the bed. It was sunrise before either of them eventually slipped into slumber.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a prompt fill for Ryoko05. Here's the prompt –
> 
> 'OMG...can I make a request please? Superman/Glee crossover
> 
> Santana-Clark Kent
> 
> Quinn- Lois Lane
> 
> Rachel- Jimmy Olson (changed to Blaine)
> 
> Brittany- Kara Kent
> 
> Instead of mild mannered she's actually a huge jerk and people think she's selfish but Superwomen is this really nice caring women. SOOO there is no way Santana could be Superwomen hahaha. How do you get the girl who likes your super hero side to also like your cover without giving away your secret.'

''Hey, move it or lose it tubers.''

Quinn Fabray's perfectly good morning was suddenly ruined thanks to the most evil, foul mouthed, bitch on heels woman she had ever had the misfortune of coming across. And Quinn was a canny crime reporter so she had seen her far share of evil; foul mouthed bitches – and he-bitches. Mostly she got the pleasure of uncovering their dastardly crimes and exposing them in her award winning newspaper articles – sometimes even collaborating along with the Metropolitan Police Department to help them catch the bad guys. See, she could do things that the police couldn't – so it could be a helpful collaboration to have.

Ever since she was a little girl she had wanted to be an investigative reporter. The affairs of the world and her very own city fascinated her and she was driven to seek the truth at all possible costs. It could be hard, it could be nasty and it could be dangerous – but she believed that if truth failed then the human race were essentially ruined. Her Father was a veteran and she had actually been quite happy to move around from base to base wherever he got posted. She always had her Mom and her big sister Frannie to depend on, and they in turn could depend on her.

Simply speaking she was the real deal. However, not the same could be said of Santana pain-in-the-ass Lopez – not in Quinn's eyes, anyways.

Santana had shoved passed her in a hurry, uncaring of the fact that she was holding coffee that was now oozing down her brand new, crisp white shirt. Quinn closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as she tried to contain her anger – her fellow 'reporter' had zoomed off, she had no idea where. Seriously, she just disappeared for no reason all of the damn time. One minute she would be there – the next? Poof! It was like she just took off flying or vanished into thin air or something.

Quinn scoffed, oh wouldn't Santana just love that? To have the same powers of the city's beloved heroine Superwoman. Now there was the real deal. Whenever there was trouble she would appear, in her blue and red costume – helping anybody that needed help. Rich or poor, black or white, young or old – Superwoman did not differentiate. She didn't even refuse help to criminals – instead going out of her way to ensure their safety so that she could hand them off to the police to put in jail.

She was nothing like Santana – the complete opposite in fact. Polite, friendly, heroic – she was amazing, actually. Quinn was quite the expert on her, as she had had many opportunities to speak to Superwoman. She was very private really, but she would visit Quinn and talk to her. And of course there were all those times that she had saved her life….Quinn could get herself into some sticky situations, it was true.

''Oh no…''

Quinn's furious eyes snapped up to one of the sweetest people that worked here at The Daily Mail.

''I. Am going to. Kill her!''

She seethed, daring finally to move the coffee up away from her. Her shirt was completely ruined – and what's more, everyone now had a spectacular view of her bra – even under the thin vest she was wearing.

''Quinn, I…I'm sure she didn't mean it.''

Brittney Pierce was…well; Quinn wasn't exactly sure what she did around here to be honest. But she was sweet and helpful and everybody loved her. She wasn't exactly book smart but she had her own set of smarts that were insightful and quite profound. Quinn liked her a lot. How Santana got such loyalty from Brittney she would never know, she just couldn't understand why someone so sweet and pure and innocent would be friends with someone so mean and evil and spiteful.

''The hell she didn't, B. I hate her.''

Brittney tilted her head, eyes sparkling.

''No, you don't.''

''Yes I do! I hate her! She's mean to people, she's rude; she's constantly getting in the way and stealing my leads. She is a horrible person.''

Brittney smirked lightly, knowingly – but it was lost on Quinn due to her fury.

''No, she's not.''

''Yes she is! Yesterday she shoved the picture of my daughter into a draw because she said she couldn't stand looking at it because she looked like a lizard! She called her a lizard child, Brittney! Kara is 4 years old! And cute! And nothing like a damn lizard!''

Quinn flailed, absently sending the little coffee left in her take out cup flying to the ground, her other hand clutching the files she had been bringing back to the office after doing some research last night. Everyone kept looking over but she didn't care – she was just so damn angry. And insulted – and frustrated!

''I did not go through 6 years of ivy league education to have to deal with…with…this!''

She yelled definitively as she indicated herself before storming off in a huff. Everyone including Brittney watched as the irate blonde slammed her files onto her desk and groaned as she practically threw herself into her swivel chair, slumped down in it and held her head. The day hadn't even started yet and already it had come to this.

''I'll go and get some new clothes from your apartment, okay Q? I'll be quick I promise.''

Brittney called to her friend before she ran off toward the stairwell rather than waiting for the elevator. No one saw her go up instead of down and no one saw her use her abilities to get to Quinn's uptown apartment that she shared with her daughter. Kara wasn't there – she was at kindergarten. Quinn was a single Mom – Brittney didn't really know why, she didn't like to bring it up because Quinn never said much of anything about it. All she said was that Kara's Dad was nice and that he was dead. Brittney didn't know whether that was true or not, it probably was because Quinn tended to be very honest about things – but it was her business.

She looked through Quinn's closet and grabbed an outfit reasonably similar to the one she had been wearing pre-coffee explosion, and then put it in one of the suit carrier zip up bags to keep it nice and safe and clean.

''What're you doing here?''

Brittney squeaked in surprise when she walked out of Quinn's bedroom again, only to be faced with Superwoman.

''What're you doing here?''

She demanded back still a little off kilter at being caught off guard. There was Superwoman, in all her glory – the costume and the cape and the mask. The mask was new, really – sort of like one of those masquerade type facemasks. It left her eyes clear but much of her face was obscured because of it – which was of course exactly what Santana wanted.

''I uh…saw you.''

Brittney threw her a 'whatever' look that encompassed all her disbelief of that stuttered statement. Santana sighed and pulled her mask off.

''I'm here because once again, I'm cleaning up your mess. You have to be nicer to people, Santana! Especially Quinn!''

Brittney ordered determinedly, but all she received was a scowl as the brunette folded her arms across her chest and scoffed. She was so damn obstinate sometimes.

''Keep dreaming, sweet cheeks.''

Brittney stamped her foot.

''Santana! I know you're in love with Quinn…''

Santana's scowl deepened as she straightened up in a defensive posture.

''Are you high?''

''…and she loves you too. You're just so…so…you! Why can't you just let her see who you really are?''

Santana flailed.

''That is who I really am, okay? I don't need anyone, you got that? I don't need Quinn and I don't need her snotty little kid, and I don't need you interfering. I spend enough time flying around saving these idiot humans everyday who take their stupid little lives for granted – take each other for granted – so I deserve to just be Santana when I get to be. Do you think they want me to be human?

Do you think anyone wants to know who Superwoman really is? They don't care! As long as they have someone to depend on and someone to safe their sorry asses, they'll never care! And Quinn…Quinn may love the idea of Superwoman but how do you think she'd feel if she found out it was me? She doesn't want to know either. So just stop it.''

Santana looked away after explosion, the pain and the devastation pouring into her eyes, her tone – her whole body. She was terrified. Superwoman was terrified of one single solitary human being…well, and her little tiny human being. She was scared of exposure but what she was even more afraid of? Having someone see her – the real her, inside and seeing just how vulnerable she was.

''You're not the only one that lost your planet, San. You are the only family I have left now. I want you to be happy, you're my cousin – I know it's hard to love again, and connect again…but if we don't then our people are all truly gone, because we'd be destroyed too. Maybe these people are self-indulgent, maybe they do take things for granted – but they're young. They have potential. Most of them are good, loving people that just want to live their lives. Maybe they don't all need to see you, but somebody needs to – and I know that somebody is Quinn.''

Santana still refused to look at her cousin but there were tears in her eyes that she was desperately trying to hold back.

''I can't…she doesn't love me. She loves her.''

Brittney smiled as she stepped forward and gently placed her hand on the brunette's face.

''You and her are the same person, Santana. She loves both of you.''

And with that Brittney left all that was left of her kin alone in Quinn's home – knowing that she hadn't seen her enter it at all, she knew that Santana came here a lot. Maybe not usually inside, but seeing Quinn was like a breathe of fresh air for her she could tell. Santana liked to see for herself that she and Kara were safe and sound, doing daily routines and laughing at something or dancing around the living room. Things that human Mother's and daughter's did – things that their own Mother's had done.

XxX

''Hey, Pillsbury Dough Turd, get over here.''

It was lunchtime and once again Santana just had to use a derogatory term to get their lunch boy to push the lunch cart toward her desk – the one that Quinn unfortunately had the displeasure of having her own desk connected to. It was a nightmare, seriously. Santana had appeared back in the office in her usual foul mood and taking a disturbing amount of pleasure in being mean to people, thinking she was so damn funny and witty when she thought up names and ways to be insulting.

Finn grimaced but headed their way with no small amount of fear and displeasure. Santana sat back in her chair, idly twiddling a pencil between her fingers as she eyed him with sharp scrutiny.

''You got any custard for those pieces of pie, Finnept?''

''Uh…no, we don't do custard.''

''Well then, how bout we get a straw and tap your custard filled jiggly man boobs so we can have some? Maybe then we won't have to call you Lumps The Clown.''

Quinn sighed and slapped her bed down onto the desk.

''Stop it, Santana. Leave Finn alone. Do you have to be so rude all of the time?''

Santana snapped her cold stare onto Quinn.

''Hey, it ain't my fault that Lurch here is full of jelly and has the IQ of a goldfish – I'm just keepin' it reals, babe.''

The blonde pointed at her with a glare.

''I am not your babe. Finn, just ignore her she's just an insecure, childish bitch. You look perfectly hansom the way you are.''

Finn promptly beamed happily and almost fell over himself to turn toward her and grab a plate and shove it in her direction.

''I brought your favourite! Tuna on rye, no tomatoes but extra salad!''

Quinn smiled at him politely (if not secretly worried she had a stalker) and took the plated sandwich as her other hand reached for her purse. Yet again, like he did every single day, Finn shook his head to the point she worried it would fall off.

''No charge. Have a good day, Miss Fabray. Crack that case wide open!''

Finn grinned as he clutched the trolley and began to move off. Santana flailed and dropped her head back as he headed toward somebody else.

''Hey, where the holy eff is my favourite? Hot naked chick spread open on…''

''Santana!''

''…wheat. What? I was kidding. Sort of. About the wheat part, I mean – who the hell would want to screw on wheat bread? Weirdos, that's who.''

Santana knew she was pushing Quinn to her limit – she could tell because she was trying to knead her temples in slow circles to bypass the approaching headache brought on by sheer frustration. Oh yeah, if annoying the crap out of someone was an Olympic sport then Santana would have won gold freaking a million times over by now.

''Just – stop saying words. I'm going to have lunch on the roof, if anyone needs me.''

Quinn stood up and grabbed her lunch and the bottle of water that had been sat on the desk, as well as her phone.

''Don't jump.''

Santana ignored the withering look she received before Quinn moved off. Her headache began to recede with every step she took away from Santana and the office. Quinn liked it on the roof – the view was beautiful and it was peaceful up there, she came up to think a lot. It was a time out in a life full of heinous crime, danger and the constant rush.

''Penny for your thoughts.''

Quinn spun around but instantly calmed when she saw that Superwoman was standing there, smiling lightly.

''I'm sorry, Quinn – I didn't mean to startle you. How are you?''

The blonde smiled and sat on the edge where she usually sat.

''I'm not so bad, thank you. What about you? Averted any disasters today?''

Superwoman shrugged with a smirk.

''Eh, helped a little old lady across the street.''

''Why, my hero.''

Superwoman laughed and moved toward the ledge to stand next to it, not too far from Quinn herself. The blonde felt at peace when she was near – she felt safe and content and like they were in their own little bubble. She watched as Superwoman looked down, seemingly contemplating something.

''Why me?''

''Hmm?''

The masked heroine looked back up and Quinn desperately tried to see past the mask.

''Why do you come to me? Share what's now just memory inside of you? Don't get me wrong, I don't want you to stop but – just, why chose me?''

Quinn knew all about Krypton and its destruction, knew that Superwoman very much missed her home planet and her people. She knew that Supergirl was the only family she had left – they were cousins and as far as they were aware, no one else had survived. So they took care of the people here as best they could – using their phenomenal abilities to do so. Quinn couldn't imagine it – the weight of the loss of an entire planet must have been horrified to live with every single day.

''I trust you.''

She answered simply, like it should be obvious. Superwoman reached out to tuck an errand strand of blonde hair out of Quinn's face, and the journalist let her – turning slightly into Superwoman's hand as her own moved up and wrapped around her wrist to keep it there.

''Then show me who you are.''

She breathed.

''I want to see who you really are. The woman behind the mask…I don't even know your name. I know so much about you but…I still have to call you Superwoman like everybody else. You've saved my life, you tell me what's in your heart…why can't you show me who you are?''

Santana's heart squeezed hard in her chest – it would be so easy. So easy to say the words – so easy to take off the mask. So easy to indulge and take pleasure in and take solace in and love. Then why was it that she just couldn't? She told herself that Quinn would be horrified – she told herself that it would put her and Kara in incredible danger – she told herself many lies to keep her from revealing the truth. Because of course, the truth would set her free and she would have no choice but to let herself love and be happy – and that just couldn't happen.

She had lost too much already. Brittney may have been able to love again but her own heart was too heavy and too broken for that. But she couldn't help but just seeing…just leaning forward and connecting her lips with the blonde's – and they were so soft and warm. There was a power there – a force – that she had never experienced before. It was stronger than Kryptonite – and even more dangerous to her. But she couldn't stop. Her world sank into bliss – into long longed for peace and content – the pain stopped, the grief and the sorrow and the guilt and loneliness stopped.

Quinn's lips were like life itself. They healed and radiated warmth and beauty. And it felt like their mouths were made for one another – because their slow, intimate and loving kiss turned deeper and deeper still – until their tongues met and it was like a whole new level of phenomena. Humans here had a saying involving fireworks – Santana definitely saw them and felt them sweep through her.

For the first time in her life Santana felt time pause. She didn't have to carry the weight and the expectation – she was free.

The kiss came to an organic end and instantly both missed the contact – the feeling and intensity and electric and heat. Santana placed on more solitary kiss on those perfect lips before sighing softly as she stepped back.

''Wait…''

Superwoman paused, hovering above the floor of the rooftop.

''You already know who I am, Quinn.''

With that she flew away leaving the blonde journalist alone. Quinn didn't know what to make of that for long minutes. The wind flowed gently and the distant sounds of the city were barely noticed as her entire self tried to process what had happened. She had never experienced a kiss like that one – not even from her daughter's Dad. Not that they had actually had some massive romance, it had been short and sweet – more like two good friends indulging in the idea of being something more than they were. They had fit in every other aspect so they had tried that – it didn't work. They had remained friends until the day that he had been killed. She was still looking for his killer.

Hell, she was looking for a couple of killers.

XxX

''Umm…Miss Lopez?''

Blaine Anderson gulped fretfully as he shuffled as close as he dared to Santana's desk. The bullpen was quiet, most of the staff had gone home and he was heading out too – but first he had to face the dragon lady head on. He clutched a file to his chest as he swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched for any signs of murderous movements.

''What is it, Bow Tie?''

She asked tiredly, still reading over some documents at her desk, feet propped up as she leaned back into her chair, head leant on one hand. Blaine shuffled a little closer and took a breath.

''I was doing some rearranging in the photography room, and I found an old roll of film behind some shelves? They weren't labelled so I developed them and uh – I thought you might be interested in them.''

Promptly he thrust out the file as she sighed and turned to glare at him.

''Wow, that was so interesting I might just write about it. Oh wait – I didn't need to hear all that crap. Get away from me, don't you have some Broadway show-gay to suck up to. Literally?''

Blaine blushed porously at her crass remark – she obviously knew that he was dating musical theatre favourite Kurt Hummel. It wasn't surprising, she was a journalist and although everyone was terrified of her and she was an outstanding bitch she was actually a pretty great one. There was also that she was somehow best friends with Brittney and Brittney was dating Rachel…Kurt's best friend. Rachel was also Quinn's friend.

''You're investigating that cop murder, right? David Karofsky? He's in some of these pictures. His partner was Sam Evans, he died too, with Sugar Motta – Quinn is still searching for the killer. They think that the same one killed Shelby Corcoran. That's uh…that's Rachel Berry's Mom. Anyways, I think the old photographer Jimmy took these before he left. They're old but maybe they'll be helpful.''

Santana gazed at him with a frown, but not an evil frown just a thoughtful frown. He offered out the file once more and she took it, just holding it as he walked out of the bullpen and into an elevator. Santana discarded what she had been reading and took the photographs out of the file that the Wonder Twin had given her.

The more she scanned through them the more she began to sit up and scowl. She got up and shoved the photos into her satchel before she took off.

XxX

Quinn smiled as she stepped out into the hallway and pulled her daughter's bedroom door until there was just a crack left open before she strode down the hallway and turned into the kitchen. It was always quiet when Kara went to bed; even though she was sleeping down the hall she somehow always missed her. But she knew that in the morning she would be full of energy once again and Quinn would be up with the birds and chasing after her to get her ready for the day.

When the doorbell rang she dusted off her hands after putting the last of everything in the dishwasher aside from the half glass of white wine she had set out. She made her way over to the door and peeked through the peephole before she unlocked and opened up her front door.

''Hey Puck.''

Detective Noah Puckerman gave her his classic smirk and wink as he leant in and placed a greeting kiss on her cheek before inching in. Quinn then looked at his partner – the guy gave her the creeps, she didn't like him and she didn't trust him.

''Sergeant Schuester.''

He just nodded and stepped in too and she turned around to give her attention to her friend rather than the older man.

''Kara in bed?''

''Yeah, I just put her down. Why, what's going on?''

Puck sighed and rubbed his head.

''We're moving on from Dave's case. There's…nothing. This guy is a freaking ghost. We got nothing.''

Quinn heard the frustration in Puck's voice and felt her own heart sink. The police were giving up – again. It's not that they weren't good at their jobs she was sure there was something else in play. She had it on very good authority that there were moles inside that were subverting justice and causing general mayhem. Sure this killer was good and left minimal traces for anyone to find, but mishaps had happened and clues had been looked over – Quinn had followed leads that the police had said were dead, for crying out loud.

It was all tied to the string of murders that had started with Shelby Corcoran – but everything just kept going around in circles. It was a mess.

Before she could answer there was another urgent knock on the door.

''Yo Stretch-marks, open up!''

''Oh, for the love of…''

Quinn went to the door again and yanked it open, glaring at Santana as she flailed.

''What're you doing here?''

Santana barrelled passed her but stalled as she saw the two cops standing around in the hallway. She gave Puck a small heads up as she wrapped her hand around Quinn's arm.

''Excuse us, lovers quarrel…''

''What – hey!''

Santana yanked Quinn away from the two men despite her reluctance to go with her, and basically shoved her into the bedroom. Santana eased the door almost closed and glanced out of the little gap she had left to check on their position, before she turned to look at the irate blonde that had folded her arms across her chest and looked like she was about to rip her head off.

''I know who your killer is and I also know your secret…whoa, hey – I've had some pretty hardcore dreams about in your bedroom, Q – maybes we could…''

''Santana!''

''Oh, right. That picture on your desk – the one with you and that blond haired boy when you were little? I know who that is. I also know that he's your Baby Daddy. Subtle, Q – having the kid picture out so no one would notice.''

Quinn looked away and shook her head.

''I don't know what you're talking about.''

''No, course you don't. The annoying photography kid that I can never remember the name of found these…''

She pulled the photos out of her satchel and passed them to Quinn.

''I checked on Jimmy Olson, he vanished without a trace – probably dead and buried somewhere. Look hard at those photos – like, in the background.''

Quinn frowned as she scanned through them, really taking notice of everything around the frontward scenes that were displayed and taking note of the finer details.

''Oh my god…''

Santana nodded.

''I got hold of some documents from Karofsky's old cases; he was keeping a bunch of files in a storage unit outside the city. I just came from there. He and your Baby Daddy were investigating most of the cops they work with. Including those two out there.''

''Not Puck…''

''No, they cleared Puck – but that weird shifty older guy? Him. I heard you tell Holly one time that Schuester had an affair with Shelby Corcoran, right? Rachel said their relationship got pretty iffy toward the end. He's in those pictures, Quinn – with that chump Finn Hudson. I checked – the retard only started working there after the murder. He's watching you – because somehow he knows that Sam Evans is your kids Papi, and they gotta figure that he shared information with you. Hudson is connected to some pretty heavy drug dudes, Quinn. And Schuester is a bought and paid for cop.''

Quinn shook, her mouth dropped open as she staggered back and sat numbly on the edge of her bed. It was all starting to pan out. Shelby must have seen or heard something that was going on and she was murdered for it. That would have been the end of it if it weren't for Sugar, who she knew had contacted Sam for some reason. He had told her that he was meeting her downtown and the next thing she knew they were dead.

All this time had passed and now David Karofsky was dead too. He must have found undeniable proof, something that would pin Schuester and tie him to everything and to Finn. Now he was dead and Jimmy was dead and god – he was standing right outside in her apartment. Her child was sleeping down the hall.

''Kara is here, Santana. Please help me.''

''I am helping you.''

Quinn shook her head and shook up, striding over to the other woman and kissing her soundly. Santana could not be more surprised. So surprised that it actually took a minute to respond to it. Unlike earlier it was needy and aggressive - it was knowing.

''You may know my secret, but I know yours too.''

''H-how?''

Quinn stood right against Santana, hand still tangled in her hair with watery eyes and no small amount of fear running through her. She looked right into dark eyes and shrugged gently.

''You were right, before. I know who you are. I think I would recognise you anywhere, it was just scared to admit it to myself because when I did…when I did I'd have no more excuses not to love you.''

The blonde had been scared this whole time? Just like she had? Santana had never entertained the idea that Quinn was afraid too – afraid to love and afraid to take a chance. Brittney had obviously seen it; she had this way about her that Santana didn't really have. Quinn had known in her heart and her cousin was right – she loved her because she was one person, not two. No matter how hard she pretended and fought to separate Santana from Superwoman she couldn't, and Quinn loved her.

Stepping in here to see a murderer here had terrified her more than anything. Quinn had gotten herself into danger before. Santana had rescued her on more than one occasion because her curiosity had gotten the best of her. She had been trapped in a flooded basement, hit over the head with a tire iron – hell she had had a gun to her head twice. Yet this traitor that was stood in her home just feet away from her daughter seemed so much more sinister. And it had made her realise that there were worse things than falling in love and letting someone in again. Things like never having that opportunity again.

It was time to stop running away from what she felt.

Santana nodded and kissed Quinn softly once more before stepping away from her.

''Stay here.''

After that was gone and for about one fifth of a second she thought about staying in the bedroom – but then since when did she ever follow advice? This was her freaking daughter at stake she wasn't about to hide in her bedroom.

She sneaked out and went along the hall and thankfully Kara was still fast asleep in her bed. She scooped her up, relieved that her daughter was a heavy sleeper and held her close to her chest. When she went out again she inched along her hallway, heart thundering against her chest. Everything was silent. Puck was on the floor bleeding from a knife wound in the gut and frantically she looked around, but then saw Schuester unconscious and tied to the railings of her balcony.

Santana was nowhere in sight.

20 minutes later and a flood of paramedics and police were in her apartment and this time Kara did wake up and was sniffling in her arms as she rocked her. She told them everything that had been uncovered and the police took the photos and said that someone had dropped off a stack of paperwork in a box that had belonged to Sam and Karofsky – they had also been delivered Finn Hudson, taped up together with 3 of his drug buddies in crime scene tape curtsey of Supergirl and Superwoman.

Eventually everyone left and Quinn just sat holding her daughter in silence for a while, rocking her gently. Finally Sam's killer had been caught and the whole mess of murders was uncovered. Hopefully the documents and the photos and having Schuester and Hudson in custody would generate any more information that they had on the drug operation and any more dirty cops.

It was all over.

''So, I guess you won't be getting anymore free lunches at the office.''

The blonde started but relaxed as she looked over to the doors leading to the balcony as Superwoman came to a soft land. Like she had always wanted to she lifted a hand up and pulled off the mask – revealing herself but making no move to step inside.

''Is she okay?''

Santana asked softly, indicating the sleeping child in Quinn's arms. Quinn glanced down at her daughter and held her that bit closer.

''Yeah, she's fine. Thank you.''

''For the record, I never thought she looked like a lizard.''

''Why do you say things like that? Act the way you do? When you obviously care so much about people, why do you push them away?''

Santana glanced down for a moment as she rolled her shoulders and took in a slow, thoughtful breath.

''I have to remind myself sometimes that I'm not human, Q. Do you get that? I'm an alien. It's just; Earth is the only home I've ever really known. A part of me – a big part, just wants to be normal like the rest of you. But I'm not. And who wants Superwoman to really be anything other than somebody that swoops in and saves the day and swoops out again? They don't want to know that I hurt all the time, or that it's so lonely being here without anybody.

I mean, I know I have Bri…uh, Supergirl and all but it's not the same. I love my human parents but I still have to know that out there – way out there, everything that I came from got destroyed. And if these people found out that I'm the girl behind the mask – what then? I get prodded and poked by some weird government doctor's that don't care I'm not here to hurt anybody? I get hunted by every goddamn evil genius?

Do you know how dangerous it is to be around me? I'm terrified that I'll put you at risk. Anyone I care about at risk. Do you think I could stand here and explain to that little girl that knowing me – loving me, got her Mommy killed?

Quinn if anything happened to you because of me I think I would die. Superwoman may be the hero but me? I'm just weak and afraid, and just a little bit selfish that I want you anyway. I lost my entire home; I don't want to lose you too.

I'm not as strong as my cousin – so I push people away.''

Quinn's heart felt like it was literally breaking at the emotion pouring out of the other woman. On one hand she had experienced the superhero talk on such a level but hearing it come freely from Santana? It actually made it a thousand times more heartbreaking. She was so lost, and so hurt and desperately trying to cling onto something because the one thing that she was most afraid of was losing more than she had.

And who could blame her? Really, who could fail to understand that fear and the consequent attempts to force everyone and anyone away from her? Everyone here had their planet – their home, their people – their families. Earth wasn't perfect and the human race on mass needed a lot of work because right now they were still just cavemen running around killing, raping and destroying the land. They had the potential to be better though – to be more. They still had that chance but not Superwoman. Not Supergirl – not Santana or Brittney…because once she accepted one the easy conclusion was that the perky, lovely girl at the office was actually Supergirl.

Quinn knew for a fact that she was involved with Rachel Berry – she had spent plenty of social occasions with them. This was obviously where the two cousins differed.

The blonde eased Kara down into the crook of the couch, head placed gently on a pillow and she covered her up and made sure that she was secure and comfy and fast asleep. After that she stood upright and walked across the space to the woman who had hung her head, fingers fiddling with the mask that she wore. Quinn put her hand to the side of her face gently to get her to look back up.

''Everything you just said is so very human, Santana. You don't think its natural to feel what you do? You feel that way everyday but you still go out there and do what you do. You still live and you still push for truth and decency and good.

People are fickle, I get that – we're not a perfect species. Maybe a lot of them would rather not know who breathes behind this mask or think of her as someone that feels the exact same way that they do. But I want to know her. And I think that she's one of the bravest people I've ever known – braver still than Superwoman. And she deserves to love and to be loved, and to feel something other than the weight of everything she just said.

No one is 100% strong. No one is 100% sure or unafraid. That's what being human is, living with that doubt and that pain anyway. We find out to be strong in our own ways and you just are. Just because you fear and you grieve does not mean you're weak – it means the opposite.

And as for me – I'm scared too. I worry that I'll finally get myself into something that I can't get out of and someone will be telling my little girl that I'm not coming home ever again. But at least she'd know that I was trying my best to get to the truth. I do it for her, Santana. And you know as well as I do that every one is in some kind of danger every single day anyway.

It's a little bit selfish of me to do this when I have a daughter. It's a little bit selfish of me to love you back. But the world wouldn't work without a little bit of that happening, and I would rather die for love and truth and honesty than sit back and pretend I don't see the opposites. I would rather fall in love with someone like you who feels the same things as me – than someone like Superwoman. She's the mask – I want you. The snarky, obnoxious woman that drives me insane everyday – because she's beautiful in all her perfect imperfection.

And I think you know that the only way to make the suffering better is to face the fear. To live and love in honour of the kin that you lost, like I would want Kara to do if she came to the same fate.''

With eyes full of tears Santana looked across the to sleeping child, oblivious and content and safe. Probably dreaming about puppies or rainbows or unicorns.

''You would?''

Quinn brushed a lone tear that slipped down the Santana's face away with her thumb as she nodded.

''I'm her Mother, that's all I would want.''

Santana let out a rushed breath feeling as though she had been holding it her whole life. Brittney had spent so long trying to get through to her but she had never understood it quite like this before. Even her parents – the only other humans to be entrusted with her secret, hadn't been quite able to tap this particular vein.

This apparently was for Quinn alone. To pull together the perspective that Santana had never come close to before – perhaps essentially giving her the permission that she needed as a parent. Saying those words like she had never heard them spoken before and giving her an inside into her birth parents' wishes for her – to live and to love. Why else would she have been saved? Why else would they have gone to such great lengths to spare her from the same destructive fate? They had obviously had faith in her to become a loving person, to understand that though she may always grieve their loss and the loss of a home she never really had chance to know, she wasn't responsible and they never expected her to carry it on her shoulders. It had never been her fault.

Brittney was smarter than her and she had understood this long before now, Santana realised that this was what she had been saying all along. That they needed to live and it was okay to do that – they didn't need to kill themselves too.

It was like a storm in her mind and it freed her so quickly that she actually felt – for the first time in her life – what humans would call being dizzy or faint. The only thing she knew what to do – that her instincts told her to do – was reach forward and pull Quinn's face to hers and kiss her so profoundly like she wanted to every single time she saw her.

So she did and it was like a clash of roaring tides hitting one another – furiously deep and pouring every ounce of withheld feeling and choked down emotion – of the deepest love that had been beaten down out of sight. It all came pouring out of her in the clash of teeth and tongue – in the tears that slipped out of her eyes, in the way she held the blonde so close and tight against her showing her need and her want. And if not for the fact that Quinn gripped her just as tightly, matched her explosion of feeling with encouragement and fervour or made these perfect noises in the back of her throat Santana would have been worried that it was too much for her – but it wasn't.

Talk about epiphanies.

Gradually, after long minutes of this tidal wave through the opened floodgates they began to slow, easing and easing until finally it came to a natural end. Santana technically wasn't breathless but in a way she was, and she was panting just as hard as Quinn. And for a moment they just stood close in their embrace with their breath mingling together as their foreheads rested against one another.

When she looked into Quinn's eyes she could see so much reflected back. She could see the level of compassion and understanding and trust – and it was outstanding. She saw her – and it didn't matter that she had cried and admitted some kind of weakness because Quinn was telling her she had that right.

''I love you.''

Quinn smiled at the hushed but sincere words, sliding her finger across the soft cheekbone beneath it where her hand still rested on the side of the other woman's face.

''I love you too.''

The next kiss they shared was slow and soft and lingering.

''Stay.''

Santana nodded at the whispered request never feeling as exhausted as she did right now. She felt like her power had been drained out of her and sucked into a vacuum, but still somehow she felt stronger – stronger because of the breakthrough, stronger because of Quinn. She felt safe here surrounded by everything that the blonde was.

The reporter went to pick up her daughter to return her to her bed but the unmasked hero asked if she could do it instead, and she lifted her easily and it felt so good to have her in her arms like this. Kara was an inquisitive, happy and vivacious little girl that enjoyed visiting Quinn at work – and that's about as much interaction as Santana had with her. Quinn didn't know it, but she always gave Kara a treat or let her do something that only adults got to do, or gave her something cool – and with a wink they would keep it between themselves. She was still a lot more candid with her than most adults would be with a 4 year old but that only seemed to intrigue and even endear the little blonde to her. She was hopelessly in love with her too – she'd do anything for her – it was nice to admit that.

Santana tucked her in and let Quinn lead her along the hall and back into her bedroom. She kissed her face in single, fleeting kisses as she helped her out of the now iconic red and blue costume – and briefly Santana was just stood there in her underwear until the blonde pulled a baseball t-shirt over her head that was a couple of sizes too big and rather deftly managed to relieve her for her bra without making a single sexual advance. Right now was not the time for that.

And once Quinn was changed too she walked Santana to her bed and helped her shuffle in before she eased in behind her. Not once in her life – not one single time had she been held like this. Quinn moved up behind her, effectively spooning her – wrapping her arm and her leg around her and holding her so comfortingly and so lovingly.

Because she knew that even heroes had the right to feel, and cry and grieve and bleed and be just a little bit broken and weak and needed someone to look after them too.


	10. Leave 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues after Leave 2

''How long does it take?''

''The box says 3 minutes.''

Quinn groaned and flopped forward so that her head was between her knees. She was perched on the bathtub in Rachel Berry's bathroom, anxiously awaiting the results of the pregnancy test that she had taken.

She knew, but she couldn't logically know until she had seen it for herself. That's what Rachel had told her when she had blurted out this whole messed up situation at Finn's party yesterday. Because Sam had been hovering by her, there had been an obnoxious amount of people there, and Santana had been pointedly ignoring her the whole time. It had all just been far too much.

Mary Evans, the bane of all Mother-in-laws, had joked about Quinn being pregnant, and not so subtly asked when her next grandbaby was to be expected. So of course the night before Finn's birthday party Sam had suggested that maybe they should think about it. Oh the evil twist of cruel irony. He had stated it logically, differently than he had ever reacted about their daughter's – differently to the times he used to talk about having kids together one day, back when they had still been very much in love and she hadn't been some adulterous heathen.

Sam had said maybe they should consider it because it might help the way things were between them. Like having a baby would be the cure for all – meaning that he knew exactly what was going on between them, and that was his solution. Sam wasn't the kind of man to suggest having a child for any other reason than because he wanted one, which was an indication about how he thought their marriage was right now.

Quinn had told him she didn't want to talk about it and he hadn't brought it up since.

She had tried to talk to Santana, but the Latina had given her a warning look to stay away, so she had. Quinn supposed that she did deserve her space, and after all she did have to sit through that party watching her be a family. She could see the jealousy in her eyes all the way across Finn's garden, she could see how deeply it cut into her to watch them be the perfect little family unit – smiling and behaving like everything was hunky dory.

So when she had found herself in the kitchen that had been surprisingly empty save for Rachel, who was miserable because her fiancé wasn't due back to town for another week because she was touring with a musical, she had blurted out the whole truth.

She had dissolved into fits of tears and Rachel had just been her friend and listened, wrapping her arms around her and herding her off to a more secluded room where it wasn't likely anyone could overhear.

''How long has it been?''

Quinn mewled rather pathetically. It felt like a freaking lifetime.

''A minute.''

She huffed at the response and sighed as she pulled herself back up. Briefly, she looked around the spacious bathroom, drumming her fingers on the side of the tub before she sighed again and looked at Rachel.

''When does Tina get home, next week?''

Rachel sighed too but nodded, she was sat across from her on the lid of the toilet, her elbow perched on her knee so her hand could prop up her head.

Rachel was the second person she had met in this little self-made family that had developed over the years. Santana had been the first of course, they had attended Pace University together and met during orientation – and not much longer after that the Latina had introduced her to Rachel, who was a freshman at NYADA. They had been friends from high school – a fact that Santana pretended to be reluctant to admit, claiming that she was only friends with Rachel because she felt sorry for her extreme looser-hood. Nothing could be further from the truth, though.

Anyway, they were close. Three girls new to New York? Yeah, they had bonded very quickly – it didn't hurt that they all shared their sexuality in common. Kurt Hummel had been their token boy, but he was kind of like a girl given how damn camp he was. He was another friend from their school and though he hadn't gotten into college with Rachel, he had gotten into Tisch instead. That was great school too, and so they made fast friends, having the creative arts and some kind of LGBT about them.

Tina Cohen-Chang had come into the 'family' the next year, when she began at AMDA. She had been introduced via freshman filmmaker Artie Abrams, that had met Brittney who had been helping him out with a music video project of his. Brittney and Santana had been together at the time, and the blonde was a dancer at Julliard because she was just that good, and that's how they all met Mike Chang too.

It was all so odd how they all just came together; it was like they were somehow supposed to be this little hub of friendship. Quinn had technically met Sam via Rachel's cousin, Noah Puckerman – who had known him and Finn because they roomed together. Sam was part of their band but was studying at community college too.

When you added Mercedes Jones, Blaine Anderson, Sugar Motta and Lauren Zizes into the mix – all of who had been freshman's that knew either Tina, Artie or Finn, then you had their little group. Of course they had other friends and such, but this was the core group – the little family. Or really, The Family, because Artie liked to joke that they were like the mob, just made up of different races and sexualities.

There were three 'in breeder' couples. Of course her and Sam were one, the next one to happen was Brittney and Mike, who had gotten together just around the time that Quinn was pregnant with Carly. And then three years ago, coincidently when she was at the end of her pregnancy with Isabelle, Rachel and Tina had finally done something about their not so secret love for each other.

Finn was married to Sugar, but they weren't classed as in breeders because Finn had 'brought in' Sugar when they started dating, so they escaped Artie's lovely label for the rest of them. Anyway, it did occur to Quinn momentarily that every time she got pregnant a couple was formed. Weird.

''Next Friday. They're right across in Oregon now. Worst six weeks – ever.''

Quinn chuckled lightly at Rachel's miserable pout. She had missed Tina being around, obviously not as much as Rachel – but right now she was actually a little bit thankful that she wasn't here. Quinn didn't think she could handle anyone else knowing her dirty little secret right now. Not until she wrapped her head around it herself. But she knew that when all of this came out then their group would definitely change somehow – maybe not in a huge way, but definitely somehow.

''Just think forward, Rachel. A month after she gets home and you'll be getting married.''

That perked Rachel up and she grunted happily and smiled, wiggling on the toilet seat. The 'event' was all set, the whole thing had been planned out and things were very organised. It was news, two lesbian Broadway stars getting married? Yeah, it had kind of caught the attention of a lot of people. But the ceremony itself was actually going to be relatively small. Relatively small for Rachel Berry, that was.

Obviously they were all going, Rachel's parents and a handful of family members were attending. Tina's sister and brother were going but her parents had refused, which sucked but it wasn't about to stop her from getting married. There were some friends, and some co-stars from the stage; a couple of notable names and that were about it. Not the masses that Tina had been expecting Rachel to come up with, she had been relieved. Hell, they had all been relieved.

''Although, you may have to replace me as a bridesmaid, considering.''

Quinn added pitifully. Rachel scoffed.

''No way. I'm not trading you; we can have your dress altered accordingly at the time. You're one of my best friends, Quinn. None of this changes that, or the fact that you've been there since freshman year, helping me through all my drama – telling me to be honest about my feelings for Tina in the first place. So no, you're still a bridesmaid, don't think this is an excuse to get out of it.''

Okay it was hard to feel crappy when Rachel said things like that, even if it only briefly lifted her spirits. Underneath Rachel's craziness that could sometimes get the better of her, was that – the real Rachel that came through for everyone when they needed her, that was her underlying essence and why people just ended up loving her.

She hadn't judged her, she hadn't spoken a word of admonishment or disapproval or disappointment. Rachel had held her, let her cry and let her talk. She had told her that first things being first, they had to make sure that she was pregnant. So here they were – making sure she were pregnant.

Rachel hadn't known which was the best test, so she had bought the 10 that the store around the corner had to offer. She had stated that lesbians didn't have to deal with that kind of crap so she thought it wise to purchase them all – but the clerk had given her a curious look. She didn't care in the slightest.

The timer that Rachel held in her other hand pinged, and immediately Quinn paled. She paled and didn't move and stared right at the brunette, fingers gripping the tub.

''Do you want me to look?''

Quinn nodded quickly and Rachel stood up and walked over to the sink, she picked up the little stick that the blonde had peed on because well, who the hell was thinking about that right now – and looked at the result.

''It's positive, Quinn. You were right.''

Not that there was much chance she was going to be wrong, but still. The reality of having a test say she was right set in and hazel green eyes quickly filled up with tears and a hand moved to clamp over her mouth.

Rachel sighed sympathetically as she knelt down in front of her and ran her hands through blonde hair before she leant forward and placed a kiss on Quinn's forehead before pulling her down so she could rest her head on her shoulder.

''We could do another test?''

She suggested weakly, knowing it wouldn't make any kind of difference.

''I can't…I don't…I don't know what to do. What am I supposed to do?''

Rachel pulled Quinn's head back again and started to wipe away her tears.

''Just breathe, for starters. And I think…I think deep down, you know what you have to do.''

Quinn sniffed and looked right at Rachel, the truth of the situation passing between them. She did know what she had to do, and it sucked. But she had to; it was the only way that any of this was going to resolve itself.

''I guess I deserve this.''

Rachel shook her head immediately.

''No, you don't. You've made some mistakes, okay? You're human, Quinn. There may have been a different way to handle this, but it doesn't mean that you're a bad person, or you intentionally set out to hurt anybody. You were hurting too – and you fell in love.''

''She's going to hate me, Rachel. This will kill her.''

Rachel sighed and swallowed, wiping some more tears away before she cupped Quinn's face and got her to look at her again when her gaze dropped to the floor.

''If she loves you like I think she does, then she'll come through for you. She'll know that you need her, just as much as she needs you. Right now though, you need to take care of yourself – because there is a baby to think about now.''

The brunette didn't actually need to see Santana with Quinn to understand what was between them, somehow it just kind of made sense. It had been right in front of her, and she had seen it already, but she hadn't known. But it did make sense, and she hoped that eventually things would work out.

But the most important thing right now really was this baby that was now in the middle of everything. And knowing Quinn like she did, she would but it and her daughter's first. This actually might be the very thing that gave her the strength to do what she needed to do; because if there was just one thing Quinn valued most in life it was her children. She was such an amazing Mother.

''Is it wrong that even though I'm about to tear apart 4 people's lives, that I'm happy about this?''

Rachel smiled and shook her head.

''No, of course it's not. You are a wonderful Mom, Quinn.''

''Don't say that. If it were true then I wouldn't have messed up like this. They're going to hurt because of me, and it's my job to protect them from that. I'm a crappy Mother.''

''Hey. Don't – okay? When the time comes, if I can be just half as good as you, I'd take that to the bank. You make it look so easy, Quinn. They'll be okay because you'll make sure they're okay. They have a Mom and a Dad that love them, and won't let anything get in the way of them being happy. And at least maybe you have a shot at not turning out like Santana's parents, because that is just…brutal.''

Quinn looked up quickly at Rachel's sad grimace as she mentioned what Santana herself had. Rachel had been there, she had seen it and from the look on her face Quinn could tell that there was a lot that Santana couldn't verbalise about it.

If she could avoid that, if she could make her daughter's understand that they hadn't done anything wrong and that they were loved just as much, and they didn't see their parents fighting – maybe it really would be okay. Maybe they could do this. Because she'd do anything for them, she really would. She knew Sam felt the same way too.

They could do this – they had to do this.

''It was really that bad?''

''Whatever she's managed to tell you? It's about 50 times worse than that.''

God, no wonder Santana thought she wasn't worthy of anything. Its not like Quinn's parents had been saints but in relation to the Lopez's, it was kind of feeling like they were.

''Quinn, whatever happens you always have somewhere to come – you can stay here, okay?''

''Thank you, Rachel.''

''No problem. I love you.''

''I know, I love you too.''

XxXxX

Things had turned out quite differently than she had anticipated. Santana had actually been a happy little girl – full of merriment and sweetness and sunshine. She hadn't been mean or sarcastic or guarded of her feelings. She had enjoyed life – lollipops in the sun, her Papi reading her bedtime stories, playing dress up with her siblings and baking with her Mami. She had adored them so much that of course it had shattered her whole tiny little heart when she had found out it was a lie.

That realisation had been sudden and hard hitting, when she had caught her Papi fucking the maid over his desk at the tender age at 6. From there she had figured certain things out – how cold they were to one another when their children weren't looking, how her Mami acted around other men – even her teachers. How they had slowly but surely used her as a pawn in their war.

Naturally, she vowed not to be anything like them, assumed that love was a pure and utter myth, and to avoid being hurt she should make herself into a bitch. In her mind, it was better to dish it out than to take it. Gone was the sunshine girl and there appeared the girl full of rage and hurt and raw emotion that she could barely contain. There appeared the bully and the evil cheerleader with little empathy and fewer morals – the girl that kept people at arms length. She watched her happy life disappear around her as her parents engaged in long years of the most gruelling, cruellest and spiteful behaviour. All of her siblings had been shoved into the middle of it, but particularly her. She thought she had done something wrong, taken all their sins unto herself.

Maybe it had broken her – maybe that was why she never got what she was searching for. Sex was her weakness and she had torn her way through too many girls to even count, stopping briefly every now and then to try her hand at a relationship. She always fucked it up somehow though – pushed too hard and withdrew too much. She ran hot and cold to the extreme, desperately wanting that love and connection but believing she wasn't worthy or it wouldn't be real.

And now she was kind of just like her parents, so it was somewhat mortifying/satisfying to know that the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

Her hero hadn't actually been the latest pop star or hot actress of the week. It had been – and still was – Rita Moreno. Santana had secretly been obsessed with her like Rachel had been obsessed with Barbara Streisand. See, Rita Moreno was not only the 3rd person to win the 4 awards required for an EGOT, and the second woman, but she was the first Hispanic. West Side Story was like crack to Santana and she was pretty much all over anything Rita got herself into.

She had met her once and she had practically died on the spot. Then she practically died again because Rita liked her music. Seriously, winning a Grammy for her music was nothing compared to getting the thumbs up from Rita Moreno.

Santana had always wanted to be like her and somewhere along the trying to get there she had become somebody that slept with her godchildren's Mommy instead. She became somebody that ruined her relationships – because seriously, Brittney? The most loveable and easy to be with and affectionate girl on the planet? She'd even managed to screw that up.

Meeting Quinn at Pace was just one of those damn twists of fate and now here they were. The thing was Santana couldn't pull away even though maybe she should have. She wanted to be with Quinn – she wanted to be able to love her for all the world to see.

''So, you know huh? She told you?''

''Yes, she told me. By the way – were you aware that it's 3am?''

Rachel sleepily asked as she looked at her best friend – the sister she had never had – through squinty eyes that had been forced awake due to a persistent ringing of her doorbell – then persistent banging on her door followed by persistent calls and chants that were slurred and some sort of weird 'Spanglish' concoction. So she had known very quickly that Santana was drunk.

''You had a show tonight – you're always wired after a show.''

Santana dismissed as she pushed passed Rachel and through into the apartment.

''Apart from those times when it's draining and I barely make it back before falling asleep.''

Rachel reminded as she pushed her door closed. Well, at least she had gotten a little bit of sleep. She had done her show, it had been spectacular – signed some autographs, taken a few pictures and chatted for a few minutes – come home, had a light snack and half a glass of wine – engaged in some pretty damn good phone sex with her absent fiancé and then fell into a fucking coma. A really glorious fucking coma – that was until she got awoken and of course it was about the lesbian drama that was transpiring.

The brunette had been waiting for Santana to come to her because she knew she would eventually. Eventually she would have anyway whether Quinn had done it first or not. Anyways, Rachel knew she was going to be awake for a little while longer so she shuffled toward the kitchen where she found Santana sat on a stool and haphazardly slumped over the island.

''Coffee?''

''Got anything stronger?''

''I have a baseball bat I could hit you with, does that count?''

''No it has to be liquor.''

Santana scowled across at her like a grumpy puppy. Rachel sighed again and rolled her eyes.

''Fine, but you have to drink some coffee too. You smell like a brewery Santana, where've you been?''

The Latina shrugged and made a soft humming noise in the back of her throat.

''Out partying with Britt-Britt – Mike, Kurt and his Wonder Twin, Sugar and Puck all came too. I had that lounge gig tonight.''

''How'd it go?''

''Like it always does when I do a gig – flawlessly.''

Rachel simply nodded as she went about putting the coffee on before she ducked down to glance into the liquor cupboard. She reached in and grabbed some Irish cream and after a minute or two had poured out two – because to hell if she wasn't having some now that she was awake. Santana lifted her glass and cleared her throat.

''To becoming your Father – man whore extraordinaire.''

The Broadway actress sighed softly and tipped her head in empathy.

''Santana…''

The Latina pointed a finger at her.

''Don't say I'm not like him.''

''You're not.''

Santana huffed.

''I caught the bastard fucking the maid over his desk when I was 6 and lost count of how many women I caught him with after that until they got divorced at graduation. And you just know that my Mom was banging half our teachers. For christ sake I'm just like them. The only thing that the Lopez family knows how to do perfectly is fuck up families.''

Rachel reached across the island and grabbed the irate woman's face and force her to look at her. She had been there – she couldn't count how many times Santana had cried and yelled and thrown something because she had seen what she wasn't ever supposed to see. She had known things about her parents – the parents that had gone from wonderful to immoral in the blink of an eye. The parents that didn't care about fighting in front of their daughter – burdening her with knowledge and guilt and blame. Rachel had lost count of how many nights Santana had spent at her house because she just didn't – couldn't – go home to that.

''You have to tell her the truth, Santana. You have to let her in. You're not like them; you're a good person. And yeah this is a mess but if you really love her, if you say that you can be everything for her – then do it. She needs to know, and you need to let yourself be happy. It took Brittney away from you, don't let it take Quinn.''

It was the last part that broke Santana and made her really cry – because it had been the thing that had stolen Brittney away from her. It's what slipped in and killed any chance of a successful relationship that she wanted. And she had wanted Brittney – so much, she had loved her and it was so easy to see a long and happy future with her. Brittney had been there completely willing and loving and Santana had done what she had always done when she realised just how serious something was. She had sabotaged it and broken not only Brittney's heart but her own. Now the other girl was married and yeah they were great friends but it had taken some time to make that happen.

''I don't want to lose her – but I don't exactly have her, do I? I know it's complicated but why can't she…why is it so…''

''Say it.''

''Why can't she just fucking be with me? Why am I never good enough? I mean I know I pushed Brittney away and everything but…I just feel like I'm so fucking damaged that I'm not worth it.''

Rachel moved around the island and straight to Santana who was already a weepy kind of drunk but add to that the stress and the emotion and all the years of actually believing that shit in her head and a breakdown was inevitable. So she held her tight and she rubbed her back and whispered that it would be okay while she hoped that it really would be. She hoped that all of this mess would get sorted out and her friends would get the happiness they deserved.

''I know she wants to leave him – I'm just not sure if she ever will. And it hurts, but I love her so much that I won't walk away. And I hate myself for hoping that she'll go through with it, because I know how it feels when your family falls apart.''

Rachel didn't know what was happening at this point, Quinn had been here too nights ago and there was no official word yet on whether she had made any concrete decision one way or the other regarding either Sam or Santana. She didn't know what to do, whether Quinn had decided to stay with Sam and was thinking how to let Santana down, or whether she was getting up the nerve to have the talk with her husband. Rachel certainly didn't envy her position. But it was difficult for her because Santana was in so much pain.

But then the next few minutes became like a series of events that she could only watch and do nothing about. Santana sniffed and looked up and zeroed in on the stupid plastic grocery bag that she had stupidly left sitting on her damn kitchen island.

''Rach, why do you have a shit ton of pregnancy tests? Are you having a baby?''

Rachel panicked and spluttered guiltily and Santana eyed her suspiciously.

''Uh…''

''Is Tina having a baby?''

''Uh…''

Rachel couldn't get her brain to engage or to get the expression off of her damn face. She was an actress damnit why was it so hard right now? Santana looked right at her for a moment and instantly Rachel knew that she knew.

''Oh.''

''Santana…''

Santana held up a hand.

''N-no I…it's fine. I'm fine. Whatever. I gots to go.''

''Santana don't, stay and talk to me about this.''

Santana was already snapping the self-locking bolts at the door back so she could leave.

''I uh…no I gotta get home…got another show tomorrow.''

Rachel cursed herself and shut the door when Santana practically ran out of it – there was no way she would've been able to stop her but she felt shitty that she couldn't. That was probably not the way that Quinn had envisioned Santana finding out that she was pregnant. Now the Latina thought that there would be no hope whatsoever of being with her.

XxXxX

Santana didn't know exactly how she got to the house, but somehow she ended up there anyways. Banging on the door like she had Rachel's, in a state of pure…she didn't know, panic? Rage? Desperation? She felt pretty desperate.

She felt pretty out of control too, like something was being drained out of her and if she didn't get it back then she would die. Add to that the fact that she was still pretty damn drunk off her ass, and this was not her best night.

Finally the door opened, and she came face to face with the man that she both loved and resented. He looked so fucking boyishly charming and sweet standing there with a dishevelled and sleepily confused look that would have been comical at any other time. All his stupid perfect blonde hair was sticking up, and even though his face was still screwed up a little – eyes squinting because they were barely open – he still looked freaking cute.

Santana wanted to hate Sam, she really did, but she just couldn't bring herself to do so. But it didn't stop her from being as angry as shit at him.

''Santana, are you okay?''

The gruff but lethargic voice asked, snapping her back into reality. What caused her to reach out and give him a good shove – enough to make him step back a couple of steps – she didn't exactly know, it just felt like the thing to do.

''I hate you! In that I really don't because I can't…but I hate that. You have no idea how lucky you are. You're so god damn clueless, Evans. Do you know what I'd give to be in your place? Do you know what lengths I'd go to to make sure she's happy?''

''Santana…''

''No!''

Santana shoved him again, scowling and panting and never forgetting for a second that she was in their house.

''This is all a lie, she doesn't love you and you can't make her stay here. Please. I have no right to ask you but please, let her go Sam. I'll do anything. Anything.''

''Quinn already left me, Santana.''

Well fuck. She hadn't been expecting that. Apparently she had come here to beg for Quinn, because apparently she really was that desperate. She hadn't really been focusing on what poured out of her mouth but she certainly hadn't expected to hear that come out of his. It gave her pause, and she just stared at him in utter disorientation, not really knowing what to do now. She didn't even know what it meant, Quinn had left Sam but she hadn't said a freaking word to her.

''She sent the kids to my Mom's and she told me everything. She told me she didn't love me anymore, that she had been trying for the girls – and that she had fallen in love with you.''

Santana had the good grace to look extremely guilty. Sam sighed softly and ruffled a hand through his hair, it had been a long night and the last thing he had been expecting was for Santana to show up drunk and in a state of what looked like blind panic that Quinn was choosing him over her.

''I knew there was someone else, I didn't figure out it was you until the party. I may be dense but I do see things. But Quinn was trying so I did the same; I thought that was what she wanted. But I have no intention of making her stay with me when she loves you. And she has no intention of making me stay with her now she knows I feel the same way. Or I guess…I don't feel the same way.''

''Wait, what?''

He shrugged simply, a little sadly but also with no small amount of relief that they had finally put all their cards on the table.

''I'm not in love with her either anymore. It kinda sucks, and it still sucks that you two did what you did, but I get it. Tonight we talked like we used to talk, and it was really cool. We laughed again and connected again – but it was a friendship. She's not mine anymore, she's yours.''

Santana really didn't know whether she wanted to barf, scream, cry or just plain old pass out. Her mind actually just broke, like it had fallen out of her head. Quinn had told Sam everything and he was…okay? He was being reasonable and understanding, and god he even felt the same way. He had been playing along the same as Quinn because that's just how much they loved their children.

She felt dizzy. Dizzy and hot and like she had just had a huge weigh both lifted off of her and dropped down onto her. She staggered back and practically fell into the lone seat by the door next to the cabinet. Her heart struggled to function properly in her chest and all of a sudden she had to really concentrate on how to breathe, body tilting forward a little.

This was all she had wanted for so long, it's all that she hoped for and thought about and dreamed and breathed. she didn't even know if she was getting it but the thought of that she could be terrified her now. Could she keep her promise and be everything? Because being everything meant not being not being like her Father. It meant not copping out like she had with Brittney. It meant standing up to be the person Quinn needed her to be, because it wouldn't just be them, it was the kids too.

God, the girls. Sure they loved her now, she was just their cool Tia Santana - what would she be when they realised that she was the woman who had stolen their Mommy from their Daddy? What would she be when they had to live the reality of this whole mess? they would hate her, it would be awful and maybe Quinn would realise that it was just too hard.

''Santana, look - you know I love you and all, but I've never really known you. Not like Quinn, Rachel and Brittney do. But I know you enough. If Quinn is going to be with someone else - if another person is going to be involved in raising our kids - then I'm happy it's you. I'm happy that it'll be somebody that loves them, and that they love, than some stranger.''

She looked up at him, stared at his earnest face, and it made tears swell in her eyes. It was a feeling she couldn't describe to hear that from a man that she had betrayed, yet he still seemed to believe in her.

''And what if...what if I'm not good enough? What then?''

Sam sighed slowly and crouched in front of her. It was ridiculous how adorable he looked in the mixture of wise and sleepy. Part of her wished that this wasn't happening, because he was so amazing. Even in this moment he was being kind to her. How could she possibly top that?

''Do you love Quinn?''

''So much.''

''Then stop worrying so much. I know that all this is messed up, but I'm just as sure it'll work out fine. At least she and I have our friendship back. And the way she talked about you...you're good enough Santana. Everyone has always seen something in you that you won't let yourself see, I hope Quinn gets you to see it for yourself. You'll be fine. Besides, we're about to be family - it doesn't need to be conventional, maybe the unconventional kind is the best way.''

Maybe he was right. Maybe the haphazardness of family for them would be the very thing that made it would - distinguish it from the family she had grown up in. If Quinn and Sam were friends, like they used to be, then maybe this could all really work - somehow they could convey to their children that it would be the same, and not let them miss a second of love and security.

What they could do for their kids apart, were things that her parents could never do together. Santana would have easily have lived with this scenario than the one she had survived.

''I'm so sorry. I swear, Sam - I'm just...I'm so sorry. It should never have happened like this, and I at least have to take responsibility for that.''

She stated earnestly. Whether it was connected to the mess of unresolved issues in her gut or not, she was still an adult and she had still made a choice to have an affair with a married woman. She had still chosen to be deceitful and lie and look him in the eyes when she was doing it. For that she really was sorry. It always felt like you couldn't stop yourself but really, at the end of the day, you could always stop and put in the effort to do things the right way.

''I shouldn't have, but it's done so there's not much I can do about it now. It might take some time, but I will ask you to do something, same as I asked Quinn.''

''Name it.''

Santana nodded eagerly, ready to carry out this duty whatever it should be.

''I don't want anyone to know about the affair. When we tell everyone we're going to tell them that it wasn't working, not that Quinn cheated. If everyone knows things will be different, and if they know the girls will know, and I don't want that. It's my choice, not hers and not yours.''

It would be difficult to keep that a secret, she knew Quinn would find it hard because she would be compelled to be honest about it and not let anyone cast any blame Sam's way. She would feel compelled to do it anyway as some attempt to punish herself and apologies to him. It would mean that any move they made, they would have to wait for a certain amount of time - but maybe that would be a blessing in disguise. Maybe that would help them into fitting into a relationship as a real couple, without any of this, and simultaneously they could ease the girls into what was happening and let them adjust slowly to bits at a time.

Santana really did respect Sam, he was willing to let the blame go for the sake of his children. Willing to really work on moving forward, and not dwelling on what he couldn't change but putting effort in what could still be. He was a man apart, and that's exactly why Quinn had married him - it's what she had seen in him from the start, and it would be the saving grace of their friendship she thought. It would be nice to see them with that spark back, actually.

''Of course.''

Sam nodded tiredly, and awkwardly Santana stood, wavering a little but managing to keep her balance. She blinked, glancing around the entryway a moment before looking at him again. It would probably take some time before they didn't feel like this around one another.

''I should uh...go.''

He nodded, seeing her to the door but not saying anything as she hovered for a moment before making her way down the path. It seemed that she had told the cab she took to wait, and with a bigger sense of exhaustion she climbed into it and muttered her address.

It was a peculiar night. A peculiar few days and few months - maybe a peculiar lifetime. She had a lot of baggage, and she had been avoiding it for a long time. Now thought Santana was resolute in working through it because she didn't want to be like this anymore. She didn't want to avoid love she wanted to embrace it - she wanted to fight. Fight for Quinn, fight for a family - she wanted to fight for herself. It was time, she had been broken for far too long and she needed to put herself together and start living how she wanted to, not how she thought she was limited to.

XxXxX

She knew her apartment was occupied when she walked into it, the air was different and it smelt like Quinn. It felt familiar and it smelt more like home than anything ever had. It brought her comfort, but it also brought overwhelming fear that Quinn would tell her that they couldn't be together.

The Latina walked through into the living room, it was quiet so her footsteps were unmistakable so Quinn was already looking her way when she walked through the archway. The blonde was sitting in the loveseat near the window, lit by the lamp that was next to her.

''Hi.''

''Hi.''

''I uh...I let myself in, I didn't...I didn't want to disturb you after your set. You were amazing, Santana, like you always are.''

Santana's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the softly spoken praise, an almost sweetly shy compliment that would be offered by somebody you were only just getting to know. Quinn bashfully looked down for a moment, lifting from her seat as she rolled her tongue against her lips and cleared her throat. She looked back up at Santana after a moment, finding that the Latina had only moved to register her shock.

''You came?''

''Of course.''

Santana didn't say anything she simply swallowed and hovered where she stood, her eyes ripping away from Quinn's to gaze anywhere else as they began to sting with reality. She couldn't bare the tender tone in the blonde's voice – she couldn't stand to hear another 'I love you but I can't' type speech where she told her that she would find somebody that she could be with and all the rest of that bullshit. She had heard that speech too many times to count now.

''Are you here to end it?''

She whispered hoarsely, though it was barely a question rather than a knowing.

''Yes.''

Santana's head snapped up – the wave of emotion had swept her up now and she frowned at the blonde, eyes glistening and challenging and pleading.

''Don't. Quinn, please don't, not now...''

''Santana you don't understand...''

The brunette nodded as she took a few steps forward, desperate to get everything out all at once.

''I know you're pregnant - I don't care about that. Quinn I can be everything you need me to be, I can do all of this with you. I'll share everything with you, everything - just give me a chance. Give me a chance to prove to you, and to me, that I don't have to walk in anybody else's shadow, I'm starting to understand that now. No one has ever made me see that, no one has ever made me feel the things that you make me feel. I just...I love you so much, and I'll fight for this. Please don't give up now when we have the chance to be everything we want to be, that we can be - together.''

There was that desperation again, but it was different this time. She felt a strength well up inside her chest, a feeling that made everything surge through her, that pushed everything else out of her mind. This was everything to her so she wasn't about to stand down.

And she cried, she let every single emotion pass through her, let it pour into her words and flash through her eyes, refusing to pretend or guard herself or be anything other than who and how she was in this moment. This was the first step.

''I just pissed all over the heart of a man that would take my adultery to the grave, that wants to be friends and laughed with me like we used to laugh even though he knew I had been unfaithful to him. I broke the heart of one of the purest souls I know - why do you think it's you that isn't good enough for me? It's the opposite Santana. Even in our best hour, you make me feel things Sam never could, and if I did that to him...''

Santana shook her head, having stepped close enough to take Quinn's face in her hands, her thumbs stroking across her skin to wipe away the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

''I did it too. I gutted Brittney, I don't think she's ever been the same since. I forced her out of my life, I broke her heart, and I practically destroyed myself in the process. We have to live with that, we should live with that. It doesn't mean we can't let ourselves be happy. You brought me back to life, and when I think about the future we could have...baby, my fucking heart feels like it could burst.

The one thing I've learnt through all of this, was that history can be left as history. The past won't go away, but it doesn't have to dictate our future. I love you. I love you with everything I have, and I'm not going to fight that anymore. I'm going to fight for it, for you and a future with you - and being a family with you.

A very decent man told me tonight that maybe the unconventional is the best way to go. And I think he's right.''

Quinn blinked, and sniffed, and frowned a little because how did Santana know all of this anyway - how did she know about the baby, and had she talked to Sam? But it gave way to everything else, to the change in her dark eyes, to her smell, to her tears, to the fact that her hands were shaking against her face and her warmth - and the sheer ferocity of her love.

She had been here to end things, believing that it would be kinder for Santana. There was so much to sort through, she had so much more talking to do with Sam, they had to plan their moves. They had all kinds of decisions to make, and news to break and it was so much. And in the midst of that, they had to prepare for a baby - a baby that would be born never knowing its parents as a couple. A baby that would be received in separation.

Santana deserved to be happy, to have somebody better and without so many complications. That's how she had seen it, anyway - but she wanted her so much. And here she was, fighting, willing to be with her during all of that. telling her she could be there through it all, that they could be a family for real - that she wanted to change her life.

She was being her everything.

''Why have you never told me about what really happened in your past?''

''Because it was too difficult to admit how it makes me feel.''

''Which is what?''

''Ugly. Ashamed. Haunted. There are these demonic little voices in my head, making me believe that I'm never going to be good enough for anything or anybody. And talking about it – talking about what I saw, and what I lived through? I makes me feel vulnerable, and exposed and bare. It's not that I try to keep secrets from anyone its just…it hurts so much.''

Quinn swallowed, understanding and empathy resonating through her. Santana was fractured, maybe she was too - maybe everyone was.

''We'll be different. Better.''

The blonde stated confidently, a decisive nod emphasising her determination. Santana blinekd, and it took a few seconds for the words to really make it through her brain before she widened her eyes with a questioning, hopeful look.

''Do you...do you mean..?''

Quinn bit her bottom lip and nodded, a soft, loving smile moving across her emotional features. Santana actually shrieked, adn she wrapped her arms around Quinn and spun her around in a circle making them both laugh. A release of tension and the break through of actual joy - of excitement and happiness.

''I was seriously worried there Q, I honestly thought you were about to leave me.''

''I don't think I could ever leave you Santana. I love you.''

''I love you too, baby.''

Their kiss was not a coordinated one. It wasn't smooth or perfect, but it was everything. A little bit sloppy, salty from their tears, full of raw emotion that was still coursing through them - it had a neediness about it, but also excitement and hope, promises for the future.

They had come so very close to losing something - to sabotaging something that was special, and unique and profound. it had taken years, it had taken pain and it had taken opening up to hurt and vulnerability - but they had finally gotten there. To a point where things seemed to finally fit into place. It wasn't perfect, and it would be hard, but at least they had stripped everything back and managed to wade through the shit to connect. To understand each other, understand there was more crap to come - but to understand they could, and it was okay to, navigate through it together.


	11. Getting Stoned On Rooftops

It wasn't out of the realm of impossibility that Santana Lopez found herself stretched out on top of a roof, staring up at the night sky, enjoying the warmth and smoking some pretty damn good pot and listening to alternative music.

There was no need to write home about it, it wasn't subject for shock TV or the weird and wonderful shows like The X Files or Fringe.

What was pretty damn strange, and really did need to be highlighted, was that she was doing it with Quinn Fabray. Of all people. This was Quinn's roof, it was her music and it was technically her pot too. Stranger things had not happened.

But this was 'the new Quinn' – revamped and as badass as they came. She was sort of…human, these days. Not so psychotically robotic or on the watch list for budding serial killers. Santana no longer assumed that one day she would spot the blonde on Snapped: Women That Kill. Actually, she was a pretty good mix between her old self and the Skank she had returned to school as. She had found her groove, her comfort zone – and apparently the comfort zone included pot.

''Never pegged you as this kinda girl, Q.''

Santana observed lazily, taking another long drag of the joint before reaching over herself to pass it to Quinn who was lying next to her. Idly, she watched the smoke she blew back out slowly dance and waft into the night air.

''What kinda girl is that?''

''The alternative stoner girl. Few months back you would've dropped dead before doing this.''

She heard a soft, contemplative grunt come from behind her as she watched more smoke, that of Quinn's, drift up into the air. Aside from the music it was pretty quiet around here. Judy Fabray had gotten the house and a huge chunk of assists in the divorce, which meant that Quinn still lived in the biggest house that Lima had to offer in a secluded street. Plus you know, they were on the roof and all. Not right at the top or anything, just on the ledge above Quinn's window.

It had been a long time since Santana had hefted herself out here, it used to be Quinn's safe heaven when she was a freshman, but when she had been consumed by high school, Cheerio's, boyfriends and her Father, she had stopped coming up here and she had stopped being somebody pleasant to hang out with.

''The pot is new, the music isn't. Maybes I'll shows you my stash some time.''

Santana giggled in the back of her throat at Quinn's attempt to sound street, not because she was doing it seriously but because she was being goofy, and that Quinn was a good Quinn to hang with.

''Seriously babe, you are far too white to pull that off. White and rich.''

Quinn scoffed, passing back the joint.

''You have no room to talk about being rich, Lopez. I know your secrets, remember? The school may think you're a super scary projects kid from the wrong side of the tracks, but I know better.''

Santana's parents were wealthy, she had a pretty nice house herself and nothing much to worry about. Quinn knew this, Santana knew this and Brittney knew this. Everybody else had to hazard guesses or listen to conjecture or just try not to think about it in case she knew somehow and cut them with the razor blades hidden in her hair.

''I'd slap you bitch, but it's not worth the effort. This is good stuff, who's your contact?''

She felt floaty, and lifting her arm to hit Quinn just wasn't going to happen – maybe later.

''You won't believe me.''

''C'mon, I'm your bestie – share.''

Quinn chuckled and passed the joint back, it was going pretty quickly, but it was also kicking in very well and she had more anyways.

''Tina hooked me up.''

Santana frowned, then screwed her face up, then widened her eyes and then her face didn't know what to do anymore. Sweet little innocent Tina Cohen-Chang smoked pot? She seemed too quiet to be into anything like this, let alone hooking people up with the stuff.

''Damn. Girl is full of hidden depths.''

Quinn chuckled, and for a few moments there was silence other than the music floating by. Right now, Quinn had it on a playlist of 'Brit-Pop/alt', meaning that it was full of Placebo, The Verve, Pulp, Oasis and a shit ton more stuff that Santana was either surprised at, had no idea what it was or was impressed by. This was not the prim and perfect bible basher that had invaded her best friend's body for the last couple of years.

''I missed you, Quinn.''

Well, didn't that just pop out of nowhere. Fucking joint.

''I missed you too, Santana. And I'm sorry.''

Quinn's hand found Santana's in the small space between their bodies, and she laced their fingers together with no objection from the Latina. Santana gave a squeeze, indicating that she got it. They didn't need to talk about it; they already knew what they had to say. Quinn had been a victim of the pressures of her Father, of her own fear and social pressures and she had just gotten so lost. The deeper she dug the hole she was in the worse it became, and it had taken her quite a bit of time to climb her way out.

Santana had been a victim to her fear too, and of her own self doubt and the expectation of social norms – of which she met none. She had felt like she had something to prove, and if she let anybody in it would hinder her mission. The only way she knew how to protect herself – the only Hispanic cheerleader and maybe one of six others in the entire school, and a lesbian to boot – was to be as fierce as possible.

''Me too, blondie.''

She passed the joint back, closing her eyes for a moment and not letting go of Quinn's hand. She was glad that the taller girl didn't let go either; it felt natural to keep them together.

''Are you in love with Brittney?''

Quinn asked, her words running together just a little like she had said it in a rush just to get it out. Santana opened her eyes, blinking so the stars came back into focus. This time, she turned her head sideways, looking at Quinn to try and get a read on why she was asking.

''Why?''

''I mean, it's just…you're together, right? You sleep together and you're – dating, right?''

Santana swallowed and shook her head gently.

''No, Q. I mean yeah, we've rolled around in the sack and all, but we're not dating. We love each other, but we're not in love. B is my best friend along with you – we just help each other out sometimes.''

''Oh.''

Santana is really interested about the look on Quinn's face. She's never seen it before, but it looks vaguely familiar too. Maybe she's seen it on someone else, but it was new to Quinn – or maybe she hasn't seen the blonde crack any other emotion expect superiority, anger and ice in so long that she's forgotten she's capable of so much more.

Music drifts by, Quinn hums along and Santana absently strokes her thumb along the back of the blonde' s hand. This is so comfortable. Then the music stops, and Quinn squeaks in distaste and outstretches her hand to her iPad.

''Any requests?''

''Lana Del Rey.''

Santana doesn't ask if Quinn has it, she just assumes that this closeted music nerd version of Quinn does, and sure enough after a couple of seconds familiar sounds float into their little bubble and Quinn flops down to her previous position again. Things return to normal, they listen, they hum, and they smoke. They don't let go of each others' hands.

Judy is out on a date with Trevor. Quinn says he's an accountant and pretty well to do, and looks a little terrified of her whenever he comes over, but that he seems okay. Supremely weird, but decent enough – he seems to care and respect her Mother, so she's okay with him being a giant math dork that gets nervous around the alternative, teenage Mother of a wayward daughter that listens to strange music and doesn't dress like the frigid practicing Nun anymore.

Suddenly Santana starts to laugh, breaking the tranquillity with rich, genuine and hardy laughter. Even her body moves a little, her legs lifting a little, her shoulders arching up, her free hand settling on her stomach as she laughs and laughs, tears settling in her eyes even.

Quinn looks at her, amused and perplexed, but not completely surprised since they were getting stoned and all – this was the very point. She wants to know what's triggered it for Santana, what thought ran through her mind to start it off. She wants to ask, but all she can do is watch with big captivated, mirthful and stoned eyes.

She shifts up slightly onto the elbow that is next to Santana, the one with their joined hands, and just watches.

''You're so beautiful when you laugh.''

Santana looks over at her with watery eyes and she stalls, her full laughter slowing into fits and starts, until she's calmer again and there's this feeling left over – this thing in the air that has always been hanging between them in some way shape or form, but much, much stronger and intense than it ever has been before. It makes her stomach swirl and her head trip in a way that the pot never could, and as well as this feeling in her stomach, there's a knowing and an understanding in her head too.

''I like the real you, Q.''

''Why, 'cos she gets stoned with you and calls you beautiful?''

Santana shakes her head with a barely there move.

''No, because she's finally honest. Took you long enough, Fab-gay.''

They look at each other for a moment, and it's like something makes total sense. Santana realises she's been waiting for this moment; she's been waiting for Quinn to catch up with her and with herself. The fear dissipates, and she just sits in the moment, in the bubble – she has a chemical induced high, but it doesn't alter anything to do with Quinn. It just makes it much less awkward and fumbling than it may have been if they weren't high right now. Because they were not the easiest two people to be sentimental or sappy.

''You freaked me out, Santana. And then things got out of control, and now I have a daughter and a Puck – and we're going to college.''

The blonde husked seriously, like she had a feeling that she had worked out, worked through and accepted certain things with no time left. Like she had missed one of the biggest opportunities of her life.

Santana cleared her throat; she flicked the end of the joint out into the night and then she shifted onto her elbow in a mirroring of Quinn's position. Only she brought her other arm over to stroke through silky strands of choppy blonde hair. Her heart was slamming against her chest, she was thirsty and her body felt like it was on a cloud. She didn't know if Quinn or the pot was causing most of it, but most of all she just had to use the euphoria to bring the bubble that had been sitting on her chest for three years out.

''You scared the living shit out of me too, Quinn. You still do. I think you always will, because…'cos I think love is supposed to be scary. I can handle the cute as pie Mini-Q, and I can even handle that the Mohawked buffoon will be permanently in your life. What I can't handle is you if you suddenly revert back into the repressed, giant asshole bitch ice queen of all time if things get too real or tough for you. You can't run.''

Quinn glanced down a little, the reminder of the persona she had adopted for so long was a painful one, but a very true one. She had been horrible, there was no denying that. And it was perfectly understandable that Santana would be more worried about that over anything else.

Clearing her throat, she sniffed and looked up, her eyes as watery as Santana's were.

''I already told my Mom. And Puck – and Tina. And Rachel.''

She tried to remember if there was anyone else, but that was apparently her limit so far, and she gave a nod of certainty. Puck was her child's Father, and they would always be part of one another now because of the connection they shared through her. Puck was determined to be a good Dad, and he had already lined himself up a job in Connecticut. He didn't want Quinn to give up Yale, and he didn't want her to struggle to study and raise a baby by herself, so they were going to do it together as friends.

Tina and she had bonded a lot over the last year. They were constantly looked over in glee, so they sort of just hung out sometimes and did their own thing to let off some creative steam. Tina was all kinds of awesome, and very funny. Actually, Quinn at this point considered her a best friend, so it seemed natural that one night the truth just floated its way out of her. Tina had looked at her with a sort of proud and crooked smirk, shrugged and told her it was cool.

Rachel was still a friendship she was getting used to, but it was a good one. Quinn had told her half in effort to strengthen it, and half to really end this suspicion that one day she would steal Finn from her.

And her Mom…well, obviously she had needed to tell her. It was important, and she wanted to be honest and she and Judy had come a long way. Her Mom was actually very calm and very supportive, but this was the woman that had divorced her Father and turned their relationship around so that they could be a family, and helped her to raise her baby. Judy didn't drink anymore, she was open and took an interest in her life, and things were pretty great between them now. She had even apologised for letting things get as far as they had.

''I'm not running, Santana. If I'm not too late, if I haven't completely managed to fuck things up, then I'm here and I'm ready.''

Santana smirked, there was a party happening inside her chest, and she was proud of Quinn for managing to do what was right for her. She thought that maybe becoming a parent had been a rather large driving force behind that. It had changed something in her, and she had followed the thread until it had taken her to a better place. It was a pretty big ask for a teenager, but then again Quinn was pretty special.

''I've been waiting for your slow ass to catch up, mi amor. You're a little dysfunctional. But I love you.''

''I love you too.''

Quinn thought that maybe being a little dysfunctional was actually okay. She cupped the side of Santana's face, and ran her thumb across her bottom lip. As soon as she had set eyes on the Latina she had known, on some level, what she made her feel. And back then for her to have those feelings for a girl was the most terrifying thing on earth. She had buckled.

She was stronger now. Had worked a lot of things out, had her own child, had the love of a parent – she had fit things into the right places, and Santana still scared her but in the best way. Her biggest fear up until now was what Santana felt for Brittney, if she could deal with her daughter and if she had moved on from what she knew they had both felt for a long time.

It didn't matter that their first kiss was under the influence of pot, because it was theirs and it was part of this slightly absurd night of getting stoned and resolving things between them. This was enough. They didn't need hours and hours of deep and meaningful conversation, and they didn't need anymore to be said to know that they were both ready. Santana didn't need to say anymore to make Quinn believe she could be with her and love her and accept that her life included a daughter, and Quinn didn't need to convince Santana that she had finally come to grips with who she was.

Which only meant that the trust was there, and the foundations were there. Quinn hadn't specifically meant this to happen when she had invited Santana over tonight, her intention had been to meant and rebuild bridges. Puck had the baby for the weekend; the house was hers so it had been a good time.

She hadn't necessarily expected the words, or the acknowledgement. Hadn't expected Santana to slide her tongue into her mouth to play with hers, giving her the first real taste of the Latina.

She didn't expect that they would have sex at all, let alone on the rooftop, stoned, with Lana Del Rey drifting in the background – floating into the night air with every moan, pant and heated whisper.

Who knew smoking pot on rooftops could be so life changing?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A general prompt for one of the days of a Quintana week. Prompt was 'sociopathic love'.
> 
> Warnings - brief mention of abusive past. Generally given the prompt, a darker chapter. Killer Quinn/Santana.

Sociopaths aren't supposed to fall in love. They aren't supposed to feel. And maybe she doesn't.

Maybe she is suffering from some chemical imbalance in her head. Perhaps she is mistaking obsession, possession even, for love. Because she does possess her, in every way she possesses her.

Perhaps this is just the cataclysmic result of two serial killers identifying together so very strongly that they turn it into a warped, twisted version of love. A dark, sick imitation that only serves the purposes of their sexual appetites, outwardly appearances and cruel desires to kill. Together they are stronger, they can work as one unit and reflect an entirely different persona. They were a beautiful couple together, sweet and disarming and friendly. Their lies were particularly stronger for being together.

Except, that was not entirely true – and only one of them was a sociopath.

One killer was born and one killer was made.

Now they were here, together, coinciding – functioning in what was indeed a very real relationship. They took part in hobbies together, they ate together, they slept together, they exchanged about their days, they supported one another and protected one another and they had sex together, and for both of them having a monogamous relationship of any kind was certainly a new experience. They bought food together; they cleaned the house together and listened to music together.

They just happened to kill together.

Despite their insatiable lust for death, the twisted pull to take away the life of another, the way they planned in ice-cold precision, they went to the opposite extreme with one another. It was all consuming and raw heat, as insatiable for each other as they were for their murders.

There was an unanticipated trust and loyalty between them, perhaps coming from the deep understanding of their circumstances.

''Santana..?''

Quinn's voice was rough, low and even shaky. It held a whiskey quality to it normally, but right now it was edged and lilted with arousal, with lust and a primal heat. There was a desperate quality to it, as she fought with the waves of euphoria surging through her body.

Of course she had had sex before, many, many times. It had just never had the same affect on her. With Santana it was completely different – with the women before, they had simply been there to serve her needs. When she had wanted sexual release, she knew how to get it – she was not a woman afraid to take and demand what she wanted. She had never actually cared whether her partner received what they wanted; of course it didn't, because they were nothing to her. She had no capacity to give the slightest damn. The only reason she ever did give back was to make sure she kept up a certain appearance and keep her options open to her.

It was one thing to sleep with a mysterious, alluring womaniser who had the reputation for satisfying to the extreme. It was quite another to avoid the same woman who took what she wanted, and cruelly dismissed her partner. That would only mean that word would spread, and Quinn would find that she would have to find her conquests elsewhere – and that was time and effort that could be much better spent.

''Yeah?''

Quinn, with hooded lids, looked directly into Santana Lopez's eyes. They were face-to-face; situated in the very middle of the bed they shared together. Quinn was knelt and Santana was straddled over her, and they were knuckle deep inside each other. It wasn't a slow pace, but it wasn't a fast one either – it was torturous and tantalising. Candlelight flickered against the sheen of their bodies, bathing them in a calming yet ghostly glow.

''Do you love me?''

Santana looked right back at her, and Quinn already knew the answer but felt compelled to ask anyway.

''Yes.''

It was obvious that Santana loved her. It had happened almost instantly. The first time their eyes had met, there had been intrigued and attraction whirling there. In the midst of hopelessness, emptiness and volatility of course. Santana had been near death – tending bar in some backwater hick town in New Orleans, very close to being discovered for the killer that she was when three bodies had surfaced from watery graves. It had been unfortunate and unlucky, but what was more so was that she didn't seem to have cared.

This, Quinn had picked up on instantly.

She has learnt how to get Santana off. There are many different ways, depending on the circumstances, position and seemingly the mood of which the sex is intended. Quinn is never out and out rough, just maybe enough to make it dark and dangerous to be exciting rather than frightening. It depends what mood Santana is in, of course – these Quinn has also evaluated.

Right now, she hooks her fingers just right and sweeps her thumb at the precise angle against her clit and draws her up into a deep, open kiss that makes her murmur into it. So she cums with an arch, a quiver and murmurs that get swallowed by Quinn's own mouth. And maybe its time, or perhaps its Santana's irregular fingering or maybe it's the fact that the Latina is cumming around her fingers – but Quinn is right behind her and that sweeping white hot liquid goes rushing through her and her blood booms through her ears.

She forces Santana down with a push, making her land back on the mattress and she follows in short order. Quinn pins the slightly younger woman's hands up above her head and she hovers over her, panting lightly and staring straight into hazy, sated eyes.

''Tell me what love feels like.''

She husked, both wanting and needing to understand what the people around her talked about so very often. Quinn had said the words without fault, with every ounce of feeling that they would expect, but of course it was all false. She imitated, she acted – she delivered exactly what she needed to. Inside, in her heart and in her head – she felt nothing. It wasn't that she was trying to feel something, it didn't bother her in the slightest that she didn't, but she liked to understand these kinds of things, and she wanted to understand why Santana was so significant. Quinn couldn't recognise these feelings by herself, Santana had to be her translator.

''It feels…it feels like your chest is full of this hot, bright energy that makes you feel so good and makes you feel full. Like you're gunna burst. I mean, that's how I feel about you.''

''You feel this everyday?''

The raven-haired woman nodded lightly.

''Every single day – I think about you, and I can feel you in me. I feel happy with you, and safe.''

It was somewhat of an oxymoron for one killer to tell another that they made them feel safe. There was of course, every chance that things could go wrong and they could get hurt – or dead, or caught. But then again, Quinn could understand that compared to the life Santana had lived before they had met, this one would feel significantly safer.

She studied the subject beneath her for long, intense moments.

''If anyone ever hurts you again, I'd rip their heart out. Is that love?''

It was true – if anyone ever did anything to Santana, if they touched her or upset her or did anything to remotely hurt her, Quinn would strap them down and very slowly open up their chest and rip their heart out of it. This would be, of course, after she had taken her time to torture them first, and make them wish they had never been born in the first place. And she would enjoy every second of it.

''For you, yeah, it is.''

Quinn contemplated.

''Quinn, can I…why me? Why did you chose me?''

Santana's voice was wrought, like she was fearful to even ask. Her dark brown eyes looked up at her with a longing, a submission – a need. Quinn was aware that Santana would do anything for her. Whatever she wanted, the Latina would submit to, she was entirely in control of this relationship.

She was a delicate balance of strong and weak, with one of her major weaknesses needing to depend on somebody. Quinn offered stability, she offered security and safety. Santana had been abused and misused for so long, and now she was protected. She had a teacher, and an anchor, someone to direct her and to love her even in the limited way that Quinn could offer.

Quinn once again contemplated. She had to start first, with her compulsions.

It isn't that hard.

If you're careful, if you're silent and keep your ego in check and do your research, it isn't that hard.

She can't remember never not wanting to do this. A fascination with death has always lived inside of her, an irony that is not lost on her. It runs deeper though, than a fascination with death.

Her parents didn't do anything to her. She was, is, the typical girl next door. There was no trauma, no abuse and no neglect. She had the picture perfect life. Her Mother told her bedtime stories, and made pancakes and took care of her when she was sick. Her Father taught her good math, how to defend herself and how to take care of her car. Her sisters played with her, and she had her own room and everything she could ever want or need.

Her parents told her that they loved her every day. They also told her she could be anything she ever wanted to be, and they would always be proud of her.

It just so happened that what she wanted to be, was a killer.

No one ever suspected her. Not as a child, so methodical and analytic, observing human nature and interaction. Every emotion was catalogued, every cue assessed for instant recognition and imitation. She memorised cues, body language, metaphors and speech.

She was a profiler from the time she was an infant.

It was key to investigate; she watched what she was never supposed to see. She killed small animals and opened them up, learnt how blood felt on her hands and how to get rid of it and the bodies. She set fires, purposefully said and did things to illicit responses for her to record the results. No one suspected that the sweet, polite little blonde girl was meticulously cataloguing all of these things, meeting two out of three tick boxes of the triangle of sociopathy. Turns out she would never be a bed wetter.

Lucy Quinn Fabray had absolutely no doubt in her mind that she was a sociopath. A very dangerous, insidious one at that. She had done extensive research into the subject, even. A genuine member of MENSA since the age of 6 with a sky high IQ she was often the most intelligent person in the room, whether an adult stood before her or not. She learnt how to negotiate this feeling, knowing from an early age that if she displayed any narcissism or toxic arrogance then it would be a tell in her giant poker game of life and death.

The sunshine blonde hair, outwardly social and sweet personality, charming smile and pretty eyes were all extremely beneficial to her act – and the voice, the voice did things to people. Quinn was also aware that she was highly attractive, and her work outs and efforts were equally to keep that as it was to be the fittest she could be – they were both essential.

She was a snake in the grass.

The fact that she was an FBI Agent, the youngest of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, did not hurt either. They had bent over backward to bring a 4-time PhD genius into their fold, because of course she was highly accomplished. A girl had to have her hobbies besides murder.

Quinn gets a kick out of hunting serial offenders, it takes the edge off of her urges, basically making sure she never overdosed and made a mistake. She did not feel one ounce of hypocrisy or guilt that she went after 'her own kind'. They were not like her.

It's not like she went around killing just anyone. She had put a lot of time, thought and effort into her victim pool. Quinn didn't bother the innocent – people like her family. They held no challenge. Criminals though, she was their grim reaper. The more violent the better, in her eyes – gang member were a particular favourite.

They deserved what came to them, her own victims and those that she caught via her job. It appalled her that there were simply no standards to serial murders anymore. The people she investigated were amateurs, or arrogant, or out of control – or so goddamn stereotypical it made her want to cave their heads in. It was especially satisfactory when she got to use her weapon, thrilled that she harmed or killed one of them on the job. There was a special irony to that.

Her job served a multiple of motives, access to violent and serial offenders, the ability to hunt without killing so she remained in control, and the vantage point to detect whether she had been detected.

It was a perfectly organised life. No surprises, no accidents and no wrong turns.

Until her.

Until Santana Lopez.

Quinn had travelled all the way to the backwaters for her. Something had spoken to her when she had been assigned the case to look over and give advice on. Something in the details had caught her attention, whispering to her – compelling her to go there.

The law enforcement were moronic hicks, beyond confused at the three bodies that had been discovered. They had absolutely no clue, not a single one. Quinn had figured it out within the day after a little legwork on the victims' histories. The cops thought they had been killed by one of their own kind – drug using, alcoholic criminals. They just wanted advice on who.

It wasn't a stretch to plant evidence. No one questioned her when she shot the 'murderer' right through the heart in the shack that Santana tended bar in. Case closed.

''What…what the hell? You just fucking shot an unarmed man in my bar!''

Quinn lowered her gun, calmly re-holstered it and swung her gaze up to the Latina that blinked in shock from the few feet away she stood from the dead lump of a man that stretched across the floor. It was after closing but Quinn had left breadcrumbs for her intended victim to be here.

''Your work is sloppy.''

''Excuse me?''

''Your work is sloppy. Those men should never have been found. You're out of control, your technique needs to improve before you get killed, or you get caught.''

Santana stood, with a dishcloth slung over her shoulder and her fingers holding the glasses she had been collecting to clean up after she had ushered the last of the drinkers out of here. It was late, and she was tired, and she was getting edgy – she needed her fix soon.

Not that she really gave a damn about the pig bleeding out on her floor, but it was her floor and she did not have the patience for some blonde stranger talking to her like she knew her.

Then she caught the glimpse of her cuffs and her badge. Her FBI badge. Fuck.

''Lady, I don't know what you're fucking talking about – clean up your shit and get the hell out of my bar.''

Quinn did call it in, but then she slid out one of the chairs and sat down, pinning Santana with a knowing look.

''I came here for you, Miss Lopez. I came here because you need me, you need discipline. I can provide it. You have potential; you just need the right teacher.''

Of course, Santana had denied it some more, she had insisted that Quinn was crazy, thinking this was just some inventive way to make her confess or something like that. Until the cavalry had arrived and the blonde had calmly explained that she had located Hank West into the bar, thus coming between him and his next intended victim. She had openly declared that he had killed the low lives they had found, and Santana was left off of the hook.

It wasn't until Quinn had sat there and detailed her reason for killing them as well as her personal history.

It was the exact opposite of hers.

''You were a shining star at high school; you had a perfect GPA because you are smarter than this town combined. You were athletic, and popular and talented. All covers for the nightmare you were living at home. Every one of your siblings left you here, abandoned you to be neglected by your drug and alcohol dependant Mother. Abandoned you to your violent, abusive Father. And when he couldn't get what he needed from her, he took from you. It was hard, and brutal and painful and it stripped every single thing away from you, degrading you until you were nothing.

That's when you noticed, how men look at you. It's how you learnt to profile them, to spot the rapists and the wife beaters and the child molesters – walking versions of the man you would love to kill the most, but you can't because he terrifies you.

You're a textbook killer, Santana, but you can be so much more.''

Quinn taught her, to be smarter and to be careful, and how to control herself.

''I was born like this, Santana. I'm a natural born killer; you were made by your circumstances. I was always going to kill, no matter what. If you had my parents you would never have even thought about it. Yet, there you were, struggling to cope with the weight of your history and you were so good at it, vicious and cruel yet elegant and poetic.

If you were going to be that way, to be like me, I thought you should have the best teacher. I wanted to make you a more efficient killer.''

''You wanted to make me better?''

''I suppose I did.''

''That's love, Quinn. That's your love.''

Santana was a more efficient killer. She was a more efficient person, she functioned better. Quinn focused her, she had taught her so much and even when she was severe, and reprimanded her on something she deemed sloppy, she loved her. She needed her. And her love may have been abnormal to the rest of the world, it may have been twisted and sick, but it was Quinn's and she was giving to her.

It was as close as a sociopath was going to get, and it was enough – because not everyone could provide what Quinn did, and could follow up on her threat to kill anyone that ever hurt her again.


	13. Exhilaration Of Flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings - when you squint, there is a veeeeery brief mention of an attempted rape/some backward thinking on sexual assault.

''I feel like Icarus with you.''

The statement was faint, barely a whispered out husk, detailing just how much the kisses had shaken her – to her very core. She could feel the brunette's breath as they hovered so close still, reluctant to pull apart more than they had to.

That was until Santana drew back her head just a little more, brow furrowed in confusion as she looked at Quinn. They were lying face to face; stretched out on the blonde's bed, panting lightly from the making out they had been doing.

''You feel like your pet dog?''

Santana squeaked lightly, utterly bewildered. She blinked, wondering just how she should process that particular statement. She had gotten 'you're so hot' and assorted compliments before, but that one definitely caught her off guard. But then, Quinn was an altogether different kettle of fish.

The blonde swallowed with a sigh, and opened her eyes that had drifted closed, and Santana wondered if Quinn knew just how beautiful her eyes were – particularly when they were all stormy and intense like they were right now. The way she could look at her, it sent lightening bolts straight to her core, made her abdomen tighten and her breath catch – it was pure, unadulterated sex appeal. But it was also truly, truly beautiful too.

''Do you know anything about Greek mythology?''

Quinn asked in that whiskey smooth tone of hers. Santana shook her head, still confused but willing to follow the blonde's thread.

''You're the geek here, remember?''

The brunette joke, her tone soft and laced with a good-natured teasing. Quinn narrowed her eyes, because she knew that Santana was actually very studious, and gave her a gentle shove with her body seeing as they were so close. Then, she swallowed again and reached out her hand to stroke through some silky hair, fixing the strands that she herself had tussled out of place.

''Daedalus, the master craftsman that built the labyrinth to imprison the Minotaur, he had a son Icarus. See, he had been punished by the King for helping Ariadne help Theseus which is a longer story – but to escape, he crafted wings made out of wax and feathers for his son and himself. He specifically told Icarus not to fly too close to the waters surface, and not to fly too close to the sun.''

''Okay…so what happened?''

''Icarus was too overcome, he was so blinded by the joy of flying that he forgot his Father's words and became too curious and in his eagerness he flew too close to the sun. The wax melted, and his wings fell apart – he fell to the sea and drowned.''

Santana's forehead furrowed even deeper as she pulled back even more and propped herself up, now somewhat offended as well as alarmed on top of her confusion. One minute everything was pretty damn perfect and they were making out like there was no tomorrow, and now Quinn was talking about some mythical dude falling to his death and equating that with her.

''Wait so…I make you feel like you're drowning?''

''No, Santana – you make me feel like I'm flying too close to the sun.''

Santana paused to consider this for a couple of seconds before shaking her head.

''That's not any kind of better, Quinn.''

The Latina sighed and rolled off of the bed and got to her feet, irrationally irritated and annoyingly hurt. She wasn't supposed to feel these types of things; she was Santana Lopez for crying out loud. And she definitely wasn't supposed to feel these types of things for goddamn nerds like Quinn Fabray.

She was the head Cheerio, the most popular girl in school – the HBIC. She was badass and she could do whatever she wanted. She was respected, feared and adored. And she could have anyone she wanted.

Quinn was…the complete opposite. She was on the opposite side of the social ladder, pretty much right at the bottom. Everyone thought she was a weirdo – just a total dork, with no redeeming factors to make her interesting. Literally, the only reason why she wasn't completely invisible, was because everyone thought she was some kind of freak because her parents owned the towns one and only funeral home.

She and her brother got utter and total shit for it, constantly called names and being avoided or body checked or slushied. The fact that they were both unbelievable nerds was just icing on the cake for the popular kids in her circle – they made a meal out of the Fabray twins.

''I didn't mean it to be offensive.''

''Yeah? Well it certainly wasn't complimentary.''

Santana snapped, glowering petulantly and she shoved her feet into her tennis shoes and ducked down to grab her discarded Cheerio's jacket. Her instinct was to bolt, because the pressure in her chest was making her panic.

Quinn shuffled off of the bed too, and came around it to stand in front of the brunette. It was obvious that she was nervous, apologetic and a little guilty – but there was actually a resolve to her expression, a confidence there and a need to be understood.

''You make me lose my sense of judgement, Santana. You're not the sun, or the wings or the sea – you're the exhilaration of flying. Don't you understand that? You make me feel that, and I forget that you're Santana Lopez and that I'm just…me. I forget how easily this can come crashing down on my head – that suddenly I'll be too close to the sun, and I'll fall because I was so lost in you that I wasn't paying enough attention.''

Santana opened her mouth to begin objecting some more to Quinn's words, but the blonde shook her head and put her hand on her upper arm.

''And you can't get angry with me for being scared that it will happen. For having just some doubt, however insignificant, that this is all just…a dream, or a trap – or something that it isn't. Because I walk into school everyday and my life is made hell, by your friends, by your squad – for quite some time, by you. It's not fair to expect me to forget about that on demand. You could so easily break me, Santana, by walking out of my life after deciding that the school freak isn't worth trading your popularity for after all. For thinking that maybe, just maybe this is just misguided gratitude for helping you when you needed it.''

It was obvious, painfully so, that the words that Quinn were refusing to say out loud was that she loved Santana. That she did absolutely love and adore her, but those brought on feelings of fear too – and those fears were justified.

Santana had no way to object what the blonde was saying. She had helped to make her life miserable at school, either directly or by not doing anything about the bullying that Quinn went through. She hadn't lifted a finger, even when she had joined the glee club. She hadn't made one single effort to befriend Quinn outside of it, only adhered to the rules that inside the club they did their best to not let the outside dramas play out inside. It didn't always work but she tried.

Quinn had a very legitimate complaint here, she had reason to be terrified and Santana couldn't belittle her by saying otherwise.

''You expect me to do that, don't you?''

The blonde shrugged helplessly.

''Part of me does. The other, bigger part of me, really hopes you don't. Not just for me, but for you too.''

Santana's eyes had narrowed thoughtfully, her heart was still pounding in her chest and her mind was whirling with voices and noise. She was so confused. Quinn was confusing, and complicated and difficult. If she was honest, she couldn't say that she had never felt anything for Quinn before, she had just resisted them because of who she was. That, and she had never made a true effort to know her.

She had noticed her, but she hadn't known her. It was only when Quinn had been there, suddenly and thankfully appearing out of nowhere, that Santana had actually started to pay more attention.

''I uhm…I needs to go.''

''Santana…''

''No it's…I'm not mad, Q. I just…in a way, I feel something similar with you. You challenge everything I've ever thought I was, Quinn. And I don't want to hurt you, so I need to figure some things out for myself, okay?''

Quinn retracted her hand, wrapping her arms around herself protectively as she valiantly tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to do more than glimmer in her eyes. It was a struggle, however, and she took a few shaky breaths as she gazed at Santana and nodded.

''Okay.''

It wasn't okay, because to Quinn this felt like Santana was pulling completely away and she had just blown her chance to experience something perfect. She had been in love with this girl since freshman year, and here she had been right next to her and she had ruined it by opening her mouth.

Quinn let Santana lean in and place a soft kiss to her lips, but she didn't say anything as the slightly smaller girl walked out of her bedroom and left her in silence. She just stood there, listening until she heard the front door close and then a couple of moments later heard the now familiar sound of Santana's car start, peel off and then fade away.

''Goodbye, Santana.''

Four days passed by.

Even in glee club they didn't directly speak. Not one single word. There were plenty of lingering looks though, especially on Quinn's part. It made her feel pathetic. The football players had been all over Santana like usual, and it irritated her more than usual. Instead of feeling hurt that no one knew about her involvement with Santana, it hurt even more to know that she had blown it and lost her chance.

On Thursday though, she rushed out of class like everyone else when someone screamed down the hall that Santana and Kitty, her one of two best friends, were having a fight in the hallway. And sure enough, onlookers encircled them as they really laid into each other. This wasn't a cat fight, it was a fight fight, until Santana got the upper hand and slammed Kitty into some lockers so hard that she slid down onto the floor – but then she was grabbed by Finn Hudson, who struggled to hold her back.

''Stay down bitch! That's how I do, don't fucking mess with Santana Lopez!''

The Latina was a crazy wild mess right now, and though Kitty did stay down she glared weakly at her former friend, as teachers arrived to try and control the situation. Finn yanked Santana aside and managed to keep a relative amount of control over her, as people went to attend to Kitty.

Quinn's heart sank as Santana caught her eyes for just a brief moment, before she was marched down the hall by Principal Figgins.

An hour later, Quinn had been walking down the hallway during her free period, and noticed Kitty with her parents as they came out of the nurse's office. The blonde glared at her but she didn't say anything. Curious, Quinn ventured nearer to the office and inched inside. Sure enough, she heard a faint grumble that was distinctively Santana.

Slipping into the cubicle, she caught sight of the usually meticulously groomed girl. Santana's hair was let down messily, her uniform was all crinkled and she had some cuts and bruises across her, including her face, to which she was currently holding an ice pack to.

''What the hell happened out there, Santana?''

The Latina looked up, still disgruntled and trying to hide a large streak of vulnerability without any success.

''She pissed me off.''

Quinn lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed by the response. They looked at one another for a moment in a silent standoff, and then Santana sighed dejectedly.

''I…I told her about what happened, with Steve King? She said it was my fault.''

''She what?''

Santana looked up at her pathetically, and let Quinn take the ice pack from her and take over pressing it to her face gently.

''Basically, she said that it wasn't his fault that he got frustrated with me because he wasn't getting what he wanted. Especially when I play games, and have an 'unnatural interest in girls'. She said that girls are supposed to be subservient to men, and that rape doesn't really exist, it's just something that happens to teach us a lesson for playing hard to get.''

So, Quinn had pretty much hated Kitty and the ground she walked on in the first place. Why she had been close to Santana to begin with she had no idea, they were the exact opposites. Kitty was very tightly wound, and she came from a family that were associated with some rather right wing, white supremacists so it hadn't seemed like a natural fit. It would stand to reason that they would hate each other, given that Santana was Hispanic, outspoken, not so tightly wound and in the very least bi sexual. But Quinn had figured that it was simply the time they spent together in the Cheerio's that had just created some weird bond or something.

Santana's other best friend was Brittney Pierce, who was an absolute sweetheart. The only odd thing about their friendship was that as an outsider you would think that Santana was too sour for someone as light and bouncy as Brittney, but they seemed to anchor each other and provide a balance that settled the both of them.

Hearing this though, even though it didn't completely surprise her, Quinn actually felt like smacking the bitch herself.

''Are you serious? Does she want to take away our vote and reproductive rights while she's at it?''

It was a half hiss half gasp. It pained her to know there were still young, educated girls that were so stupid and blind like this.

''San, you didn't do anything wrong. You didn't even go to that stupid parking spot with Steve.''

''Ya well, that didn't seem to matter to Kitty. I didn't seem to matter.''

Quinn sighed softly, she hated seeing this girl so beaten down and dejected.

''You do, so much. No one has any right to treat you that way – not him and not her. You're a really wonderful girl, Santana. You're smart, you're beautiful and you're talented. No one has the right to take what you're not willing to give, and no one has the right to say those things to you. You'll show them, I know you will – you'll show them just how brightly you can shine.''

Santana looked up at Quinn again, her chest was all full of that pressure like it had been the other day, but she didn't get chance to say anything because the nurse came back and interrupted the moment. But it was enough to make her think.

Figgins wouldn't let her leave school before the end unless one of her parents came, but her Papi was stuck in the hospital and her Mom had driven to Columbus with her Tia for the day. After they made sure she was okay, and told her they would be talking about her behaviour tonight, Santana had been left to stretch out on the bed in the nurses station and think.

Quinn's words echoed in her ears, not about the bigger issues, but for some reason about the fact that she had driven to a parking spot that overlooked the town a little bit one day after school to think. She had been sat on the hood of her car when Steve King had pulled in with his truck – and that's where things had started to get a little out of hand.

Santana still didn't know whether he had been randomly driving in the neglected area, or specifically searching her out, but he had turned up and he had tried it on with her. When she had resisted he had gotten a little rough, and when she had hit him he had hit her back. It was when he had gotten her pinned against his truck that she had really thought something awful was going to happen – and that feeling had not gotten any better when he had been shoving his jeans around his ankles and telling her she was a slut and he could do anything he wanted.

Only, Quinn had suddenly been there. With her massive, huge dog Icarus who had intimidated the bulky footballer. Basically the blonde had saved her life, she had spared her from a very ugly fate and since that day, Santana had been talking to her like she should have before.

In the last few weeks, spending time with Quinn had been…a revelation. She had truly loved getting to know her properly, despite keeping everything a secret from her friends. Well, except for Brittney.

The thing was, as Santana tried to assimilate what had happened and what had almost happened, and negotiated through her growing feelings for Quinn – she had never stopped to think about what she actually when up to the parking spot to think about in the first place.

Her feelings. For girls. And her attraction – to Quinn.

Fuck she was so stupid sometimes.

Quinn had no idea what was going to happen tonight. Since the day she talked to Santana in the nurse's station, she hadn't seen or heard from her. The entire week had been empty because of it, but there was nothing she could do, Santana was on suspension and she wasn't reaching out to her. Quinn knew she had to give her the space that she needed – that she had asked for, even though she didn't necessarily want to.

That was until the Friday, she had opened up her locker to find a red envelope in there. Looking around, Quinn opened it curiously and found a plain card in there, with Santana's neat writing asking her to be her date to a party that Sugar was throwing at the Sugar Shack the next day. Quinn knew about it, Sugar had invited her already, but she hadn't been sure whether she would go or not. This though, this was Santana asking her to go as her date.

''You know, once you get through the hard shell – she's totally worth it.''

Quinn jumped and looked up at Brittney who had just appeared by her locker. She smiled knowingly, giving Quinn the impression that the cheerleader had been the one to put it in her locker for Santana. She had always been nice to her, even though everyone else called her a freak and weirdo names – Brittney had always been sweet, and when Quinn had driven a numb Santana to her house that day, she had been very tender and very grateful, and Quinn had seen up close and personal the depth of their connection.

Brittney winked, and then continued on her way to wherever it was she was going. It took Quinn until she was getting ready for bed that night to finally send a text to Santana, telling her that she would go with her to the party tomorrow.

The blonde had never been so nervous going to a party before. She didn't get to go to the type of parties that Santana constantly had access to, but she had been to the parties of her friends, and glee and a couple of her other teams' parties. She had been to the Sugar Shack a couple of times, and very much enjoyed herself.

But tonight she knew that there would be a heavy presence of popular kids, all of Santana's friends and the jocks and cheerleaders. People that bullied her, people that thought she was a freak, and people that Santana hadn't mentioned her to.

But the Latina was there, waiting, looking so beautiful and she had smiled when she had come in through the door and gestured her over.

''Hi.''

''Hi.''

With an unnatural shyness, Santana lifted a single red rose out to the blonde.

''This is for you.''

Quinn paused, not completely knowing what to do, before she took the flower delicately in her fingers, blushing lightly.

''Thank you.''

Santana smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she composed herself.

''Thank you for coming, I wasn't sure if you would. And…after the way I've ignored you this week, I wouldn't have blamed you for not showing up. You look…so beautiful, Quinn. Will you dance with me?''

See, Santana had this charm about her, it was very specific and natural, and it made you forget about everything because you felt so precious in her focus. Quinn nodded silently, unable to think about anything else in the moment, other than that Santana's eyes were so stunning, and she was so beautiful too, and she really missed being in her arms.

The Latina slipped her hand into Quinn's, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently, and lead her to the dance floor. When they got there, the Latina turned and lifted her arms to loop around the taller girl, much to Quinn's surprise. Instinctively, Quinn's hands went to loosely hold her sides, and she stared at Santana questioningly.

''I've come to some conclusions this week. And they're pretty simple.''

''Okay.''

''You said I make you feel like Icarus – that I could so easily break you. Well, the same things are true for me, Q. I've been struggling with who I am for so long, Quinn. It was happening, but apparently I'm not as smart as I think I am, because it was slow.

That day I went up to park? I went up there because it's quiet, and I went to think about how I can't fight myself anymore, it's exhausting. It scares me, but…I know I can't run from my sexuality anymore. And I knew then, like I do now, that I am so very attracted to you.

I want to be with you Quinn. What happened didn't make me interested in you; it gave me the excuse to get to know you.

I love you. I do, you make me feel like I'm flying too, and you make me feel things I've never felt before. So, if I'm not too late, if you can give me the chance, I would really like to do this with you. For real – no secrets, no hiding…none of that. You deserve everything, Quinn – you deserve me to be the best I can be, so I will always try to do that from now on.''

To say that Quinn was stunned, flabbergasted, completely bowled over? That would be a fantastically major understatement. She felt like her lungs had stopped working and her entire chest burnt, because she simply couldn't breathe. The look in Santana's eyes, the truth and sincerity in her voice, it stole the air right from inside her.

There was commotion and sound all around them, but since Santana had started talking it felt like they were the only ones here, moving around to silence. They didn't exist, not right in this moment – a moment that she had dreamt of countless of times.

''You…you love me?''

She asked shakily, voice barely scraping enough sound together to be heard. Somehow the Latina did, and she nodded, not breaking the eye contact that they had established and held throughout her little speech. This was it. It was go time, and she had to step up and be a real person. Not this character that she had created to serve her purposes.

This week had given her time to strip that away, to start being truly honest. It had given her the room she needed, so in a way she was grateful. Grateful to Steve for being an asshole would-be-rapist, grateful to Kitty for being an ignorant, moronic bitch, and grateful that Quinn had been on a long distance run, and had helped her, and had befriended her and showed her who she was. Of course, she would only be keeping one of those three in her life, one she had finally reported to the police and the other could go to hell.

They didn't matter. They didn't have power over her life, she did. And it had taken her a massive amount of time to understand that. Popularity was nothing. Not if you didn't have true friends, so it was worth nothing.

This? Love, and understanding and friendship and support? It was really all that mattered. Because the girl that got shit everyday at school, the girl that had been bullied by her and all her precious popular friends? She hadn't even hesitated in helping her. Kitty wouldn't even entertain the idea that Steve had been in the wrong. It would be so fucked up if she held on to popularity over someone like Quinn.

''I love you.''

Not one single waver of doubt entered her voice.

''You mean that?''

Santana knew that Quinn was not only referring to her statement of love, but also the statement that she wanted to be with her without any secrecy involved.

Smiling just lightly, Santana lifted up and in front of anybody that cared to look, placed her lips against Quinn's. For a moment it was just a pressing together, but Santana slowly but surely coaxed Quinn into a deeper kiss. It was slow, but languid and powerful and possibly better than any other kiss they had ever shared, because they weren't hiding in Quinn's bedroom. They were free.

''I can't tell you what's going to happen now, I can't make any promises – I can only promise that if we fall, Quinn we'll fall together. Okay? I'd rather be with you and fall than never fly at all. You're worth it, and you are better than any of us here. I'm going to make up for all the shit I put you through, and I'm going to try and prove to you everyday why someone like you, would be with someone like me.

And I started that by doing a few things this week. You wanna hear?''

Far too overwhelmed and overcome to speak, Quinn nodded, trying valiantly to stop her eyes from watering but it wasn't working, and her eyes glistened into darker similarly glistening eyes.

''I reported Steve King. I told my parents everything that happened, and I told them about what Kitty said to me about it. And then I told them about me – that…that I'm gay. And that there was a special girl, and that I was in love with her – and her name is Quinn Fabray.

And the reason I wanted to ask you here tonight, besides to tell you all of this, was to ask you if you would officially be my girlfriend. What do you say? You wanna fly too close to the sun with me?''

Quinn laughed, a choked up, teary laugh because somehow she knew that this Greek mythology analogy was going to accompany them for however long they were together. It would always be associated with Santana now, and that was pretty much okay by her. If there was anyone she was going to strap on wax and feather wings on for and fly it was this girl right here, who in the space of just under two weeks had really pulled through for her. And very much for herself, too.

Santana had heard her words, and they had settled inside of her, perhaps just feeding the seeds that were already growing there.

''Yes! Yes, I will be honoured to fly too close to the sun with you, Santana Lopez. I love you too, I always have.''

Santana smiled, and she lifted up to initiate another slow, purposeful kiss. She didn't even care where they were, her stomach was doing back flips and this was literally the happiest she had felt in so long. She felt like a weight had been lifted away from her and she could breathe again.

When their kiss came to an organic end, she pulled her arms tighter around Quinn and pressed into her, closing her eyes and breathing deeply – slow dancing with the girl that had saved her now in so many ways that she couldn't even begin to count. She knew that there would be fallout, but she was also prepared for it, she was strong and she had Quinn, and her parents were behind her – she had the support where it counted. Brittney would be there for her, the glee club would be there for her, and she was even pretty sure that Coach Sylvester wouldn't care she was a lesbian. Everyone else she could handle, it was worth it.

Santana knew evidently what Quinn had known for a long time, that exhilaration only came with the risk of falling – and that also, life always came with that risk. Quinn had let a girl she had only previously known as a bully into her life, knowing that she could fall. She did that because of love, and because it was the only ever way that you got to experience, and learn, and get anywhere near where you wanted to be.

So, she was taking her cue from the bravest person she knew aside from her parents. She was strapping on her wax feather wings, and she was flying. The difference between her and Icarus was that she had some safety nets, people to help her out of the water, people to hold onto – and she wasn't flying alone. She had Quinn's hand to hold onto.


	14. Seed

When Santana sits and really thinks about it, with hindsight on her side, she can pinpoint the very second the seed was planted.

I just want somebody to love me.

She remembered that moment with perfect clarity. She remembers feeling inadequate to deal with Quinn's issues, because what the hell did she know about honest to god misery? Sure, back then, she had been dealing with a massive wave of emotion and fear - flatout insecurity that she had been in full on denial about.

But Quinn? Quinn's life had been something else entirely, and Santana remembered her 17 year old self feeling the discomfort of knowing that she was of absolutely zero help. Because at the end of the day, no matter how terrified she was of herself, she had her Mami and Papi that without a single word of explanation, she could cuddle up to on the couch and take comfort in them.

She remembered thinking, maybe for the first time in a very real way, that Quinn actually never had that and maybe they should all give her a damn break.

Because not one single member of their merry band of misfits knew her pain, or the emptiness she grew up in every day. They didn't know what it was like living in that cold, hollow house - the pressure to be perfect, to beg for attention, and cut out parts of yourself to only be considered valuable. They didn't know what it was like to have a baby in high school, or get thrown out on their ass, or to have to give that precious little baby up because you just couldn't take for granted the trust you were supposed to take for granted with your parents.

Quinn had kept trying. She kept trying to be perfect, to be open, to be loving, to be a bitch, to be closed off, to be anything other than what she was, to be anything that she thought anyone wanted from her. And she got slapped down each and every time.

No wonder she had been a fucking mess.

But at 17 years old, with her own pressures and insecurities, despite the recognition that maybe they should all try harder for Quinn, Santana Lopez had offered the best she could. A shoulder to lean on, a little affection and a hair cut.

The seed planted inside was earthed in the far, far recesses of her mind and heart, all but silent and so small it was overlooked.

XxX

It sat there. Silent and unthreatening. Not even registering when she and Quinn have their clashes again. Santana tries to help Quinn, she honestly does, when she comes back to school the way she does. And it's not because she thinks that Quinn shouldn't dress the way she does, or have the 'care less' attitude, because she figures it's each to their own. She just knows that it isn't her. She's forcing herself into a mould that yet again, she doesn't fit into. But Santana's ability to competently express herself - in this capacity anyway - is still under construction.

They have their moments. Santana finds herself staring at Quinn sometimes. The seed isn't big enough yet, but it's just rooted enough for her to pay more attention. To look, despite not knowing why, to try and work the complicated blonde out. She thinks its because she loves her as a friend, and maybe she could better herself as one, and maybe because this is their last year and she feels the gravity of that. They've been through so much, and she and Quinn more than anyone started on exactly the same path.

They started as Sue Sylvester's would be saboteurs, Brittney just came along with them for the ride, yet they had found something important in the glee club that they had set out to destroy. Brittney had always had this self assurance about herself, despite what people said about her, but they never had - they had been shocked to discover that they actually had something to learn in glee. Possibly more so than anyone else.

So Santana figures this little gravitational pull, just strong enough to notice, is some kind of sentimental friendship thing. She talks to Quinn a little, when she's daring enough, about her feelings. She knows Quinn understands the fear of opening up, of being real and honest, so she knows she can tell her that she's actually really terrified of being gay. Quinn doesn't judge, and say she should have pride and the world is different and that Kurt got through it - because Quinn knows what she does, it's bullshit.

Being scared is actually smart. There are reasons to be scared, and the world isn't all that different, and Kurt and she are individual's and have different experiences and lives. It's never the same. Quinn doesn't put all this pressure on her to step up and own it, like she's a traitor to the cause for wishing she wasn't or that she could just hide it and be with Brittney on the down low.

Yet, it's Quinn that gently reminds her that there is reason to be proud. And that despite the oddity of the club's friendships, they would be there for her, and that perhaps if worst came to worst, getting thrown out of your home isn't the end of the world. It's awful, and painful, and it will scar her forever, but she'd live through it.

And Santana likes to think of that night, as she was sitting with the blonde on the swings in the park, as the night she felt fully accepted by somebody. Because if Quinn the messed up Catholic could say that to her, and not be afraid of her obvious raging lesbianism and be happy that she was head over heels in love with Brittney - then there had to be hope.

XxX

The seed tugs a little harder as Santana sits numbly in the hospital waiting room. She feels utterly helpless again. Almost a year later and she was still unable to help Quinn as she yet again got a giant smackdown from the universe.

They don't know much, but the idea that her best friend, because Quinn is her best friend despite everything, is in a trauma room bleeding and broken - well it makes it hard to breathe. The idea that she may never come out of that room would destroy her world. Because it's just not fair. How can one girl take so much fucking abuse in such a short lifetime.

Thing's had been strained, because Quinn at least had the balls to tell Rachel to her face that she was making a mistake. And sure, she got painted with the 'evil bitch' brush again, because everyone assumed that she was being spiteful, but Santana knew Quinn was trying to show she cared. Just like she had many a time, but it was always taken the wrong way. It wasn't the first example of Quinn's attempts to be a good friend, another was telling Rachel to wait to have sex - not that she listened.

Santana had walked away from the group, unable to keep the emotion from bubbling up within her, and she had sobbed. Not sniffled, or cried - but sobbed. She had thrown the bathroom trashcan clear across the space, because she needed to do something, and then she had just sank down the wall and sobbed.

Only Brittney had seen the tail end of that breakdown, after ten minutes or so she had wandered in to find her girlfriend, and without question had sank to her knees and gathered her into her arms and just held her. And it had been what Santana had needed, but it had also made the moment a little harder, because in the depths of her mind she had wondered why it hadn't quite felt like enough.

She loved Brittney, there was no question of that. But something inside told her that the only girl she wanted holding her right then, was Quinn.

XxX

It's only fitting that they pay back some karma during senior prom night. As much as she would have loved to be crowned prom queen, it's meaningless without Brittney being her 'king'. In years gone by she would have been a hot mess of rage at discovering that she had lost, particularly when it was only by one to Quinn Fabray.

The very fact that she gets to be at senior prom, openly gay and with her girlfriend, well it kind of just makes everything else insignificant. She honestly thought something like that would never happen, let alone being voted for queen with Brittney as a weird but awesome king (though she still didn't dare think about how the entire student body seemed to know that Brittney had always been in charge) - not that queens couldn't be. But it was Lima, Ohio - forward thinking came bit by bit.

Anyways, she had been happy for Quinn. But she had been even happier that Quinn had decided it was insignificant too, and it would mean more to someone that they had put through a lot of crap. It was a proud moment for Santana, for herself and for Quinn, in that room where together they had made the decision to write out new ballots in favour of Rachel.

She had been on a roll with pride, because when she had been shoved out of her closet, Quinn had been there. And when Quinn had come around from her accident, she had been there. And it hadn't been perfect, but she had been proud of Quinn. Her chest had almost burst when she had sung I'm Still Standing with Artie - she had been remarkable. The smile had actually reached her eyes, and there had been so much relief filling her up because the blonde didn't find happiness easy. It was unknown and frightening and difficult, yet like everything else, Quinn just kept fighting.

But that moment on stage. The moment that she had pulled herself up out of that wheelchair beside her, choosing that moment with her to stand up? It had been phenomenal. Santana had almost missed her cue, she was so shocked and awed at the unexpectedness of it. Everyone had been. And she had been so honoured that she had gotten to be right there by her side - that she had gotten to step into Quinn and wrap her arm around her for support during that precious moment.

And she had felt how difficult it was. Quinn's body had been weak, and her muscles were clenched, her skin hot and her frame liable to fall at any second because it was just so fucking exhausting for her to stand. Yet she had, and she had kept on singing, and Santana had never felt more in tune with Quinn than in that moment. Never felt like she had been more of a friend to her than right then, to help her do what she needed to, and take her weight. Quinn had trusted her. She had trusted her.

She hadn't registered, for a long time, because of the momentous happening, and the fact that she had Brittney there with her and she was so unbelievably happy and free, that Quinn had felt so good in her arm.

XxX

The future became far too real for her. Santana realised in one rush of suddenness that as much as she detests Lima, it had been her safety bubble. Here, in her tiny, tiny portion of the world, she had gained some notoriety and respect - she'd had a voice, and been part of something. She had put off thinking just how in the hell she would translate that into the big wide world.

Kentucky never instilled her with the pure elation that Quinn had about Yale. Freaking Yale. Another source of pride for Santana in respect to her best friend. Quinn had dragged herself through hell and high water and gotten herself accepted into Ivy League.

It had hit her like a ton of bricks that she had no plan. It's why Brittney pushed so hard to give her one. And she was, and would always be, truly grateful - to know someone loved her that much. But when she got there she knew immediately it wasn't her. It was McKinley on a bigger scale, and the high school bullshit was just slightly older, and she had found it hard to make friends and fit in. She tried and she failed. And on her loneliest nights, she speculated that it had probably been how Quinn had felt so many nights back in school.

To make matters worse, her relationship with Brittney got steadily worse until she just couldn't take anymore. It wasn't Brittney. She loved Brittney. It was her whole life. She was confused, and sad and lonely - and she felt like she was drowning.

The only thing she truly knows what to do with that is to act. And it sucks, because she feels untethered and she just keeps going around in a vicious cycle. After breaking up with Brittney and returning to Kentucky, she just starts to work her way through as many Kentucky lesbians as possible. She insists to herself that it's college, and she should be having fun and experimenting, and that it's just sex. It was good to blow off steam. It had never been that, because she had never honestly felt like that about sex. And if she had, Brittney had taught her different.

Santana is blinded by all of this, by being near Brittney who has moved onto Sam, the next time she saw Quinn. Her jealousy and her pain and her rage and her insecurity all combine, and it blocks what she should have seen in Quinn at Thanksgiving. The same untethered loneliness. Santana had been fucking a different girl almost every night - Quinn had been fucking her teacher. They were doing the same things in different ways, and they both missed it in each other.

They let the bullshit get in the way. The high school crap that they were dragged back into. And Santana always lived to regret the fight that happened in the choir room, and yeah she'd slapped Quinn before - but she had never felt so god damn worse as she did within that moment.

The second that Quinn walked away from her, Santana had felt like her heart had followed.

XxX

They work it out. Of course they do. Santana gets the courage to leave Kentucky and sort of dumps herself in the midst of Rachel and Kurt's lives, and instantly feels better. Her life takes turns that she never thought it would have, and it's not perfect but it's definitely better than forcing herself to stay at Kentucky.

And she spoke to Quinn about it, she was the only one that could claim that Santana had 'consulted' with her, despite some unresolved tension from their fight. But Quinn comes through for her, and sheepishly admits that she ended the affair with her professor. She has a difficult time admitting when she's wrong, or that in the very least, someone else knew what was wrong for her, so Santana doesn't make her sweat it. And Quinn didn't give her a hard time over wanting to quit college.

Santana admits that she has no friends, no interest in cheerleading and though she likes to study, she has zero interest in doing that there. Quinn reminds her how hard it is to force yourself into the wrong moulds, and asks her outright what she wants to do. And when Santana tells Quinn that she wants to sing, Quinn doesn't laugh. She doesn't scoff. She doesn't belittle it. Actually she smiles. And she tells her that she can.

So things are a little better the next time they actually see each other for real instead of over Skype. And they make light of slapping each other, and things feel a little normal again. And no one really knows that they can't get through a single day without at least texting, but usually there's a phone call, or a Skype call, or a series of snapchats.

And by the time the wedding comes and Santana is in Quinn's arms, full of wine, moving in rhythm to the music, that seed has grown significantly. Without her even knowing it, it's rooted and branched out - and it takes a failed wedding to bring them together to make her see it for the very first time.

She sees Quinn's beauty, the storm of her eyes, the way she rolls her tongue across her lips, the silk of her skin, the curve of her breasts, the athleticism of her body and the control of coordination of it, and the absolutely raw and effortless sex appeal that she just oozes. She sees a growing confidence, a learning of experiences, a talent and a comfort level within Quinn that is beyond sexy - and she thinks to herself that Quinn has moved from being a girl to a woman.

She thought her mind was playing tricks on her with the way that Quinn was being. Calling her beautiful and looking at her with smouldering eyes, touching her with lingering intention - she actually came onto her.

And yet even when she sees all of that, even as her thoughts cease to exist when her lips touch Quinn's for the very first time in that hotel room, Santana misses the obvious. Even as they undress each other, and her hands skim over all of that divine skin on offer to her, she is still clueless as to what's been growing inside of her all this time.

It's not that she didn't appreciate that first night for something truly spectacular. It was. That part didn't pass her by. The fact that Quinn trusted her with her body, and didn't hesitate in reciprocation, that didn't pass Santana by. She learnt so much about Quinn that night, so much more than she had ever expected to. They let themselves connect on an entirely new level, and part of it was to try and rid themselves of leftover pain - but it was still theirs.

And when it was very, very late - or early, and they were naked, and sated and spent, they felt trusting enough to sleep in each other's arms. And on the brink of sleep Santana had kissed Quinn's shoulder, and she had sleepily muttered words that she wouldn't remember for quite a while - but Quinn had been awake enough to.

''Somebody loves you.''

XxX

Santana confuses her night with Quinn as trying to get over Brittney. So when she meets a pretty blonde at work, she doesn't think too much about it. She enjoys dating Dani, though the life she leads in New York is random and still full of drama. She secretly loves it she knows that, but it does require far too much effort sometimes. Still, its hers and she feels at least she's starting to make her way.

Despite being with Dani, she still talks to Quinn every single day. No one knows that they had sex at the hotel. Three times. No one knows that waking up to one another was easy, and not at all awkward. They just laughed intimately, and they even kissed. It had been an outstandingly tender moment between them, because it was a deep, emotional and thankful kiss because yet again they had helped one another through something huge.

Dani is a laid back kind of girl, but she asks a lot of questions about Quinn. Especially when Santana disappears to visit her at Yale some weekends, or she basically gets ignored the times that Quinn comes to visit New York.

It was what it was. Santana can see, with hindsight, that she was in love with her best friend without even knowing it. She was so blindingly stupid, but then again, so was Quinn. Quinn who dated young men at Yale (as well as two other girls, but not many of their friends had been aware of that). They had never been the best at feelings, after all.

So Santana when Santana ends up back in Lima, kissing Brittney, it feels like perfection. And when she sees Quinn singing with and kissing Puck, she's actually happy for her. He's turned his life around, just like they were doing, so why not? Things ended with Dani, and Santana has another go with Brittney. And it works. For quite some time it seems to work. They even got together as a four sometimes - Quinn is different. Her studies are going really well, she's finding herself, she turns out to be one seriously talented actress and becomes the buzz of the drama department. She makes friends - real friends, and finds it easier to be herself. Puck helps her a lot, she finds it easier to be honest - but there are still things she would only tell Santana, things that she could only be honest about to her.

The inevitable happens though. The discontent poisons Santana's chest. Things with Brittney became hard again. Puck and Quinn end in a firestorm of betrayal, because he slips one night and screws some nameless girl and thinks being honest about it will save him. It doesn't. Because Quinn ended up in a rage, ended up on Santana's doorstep in New York in a flood of tears - and Brittney had already gone by then.

So they do what they have to so that the hurt lessons a little. They fuck. It's not the playful, hot sex they had in the hotel either. It's a fight for dominance, it's angry, it's bitter - they take everything out on each other, and they just fuck. But after, when it's out of their system, they talk. Quinn admits, in the dead of night and in the protection of darkness, she whispers into Santana's shoulder as they hold each other that she can't entirely blame Puck. She feels like he was responding to the unspoken feeling between them - that they just didn't belong together after all. They just needed to have what they had, maybe as closure.

Santana feels the same way about Brittney.

The morning after, with everything talked out, it's the first morning that they truly make love. The first time that it's solely about them and the feelings they have for each other. It's not about the whiplash of pain over Brittney and Puck. It's not about the difficulties of life as they turned into real adults.

It's about them. And after, still looking into each other's eyes as they panted, Quinn reminds Santana of those words she had uttered.

''Somebody loves you too.''

XxX

So, when people ask her when she fell in love with Quinn Fabray, she decides it was that day in a different hotel room. When the blonde was on the brink of destruction, and Santana felt inadequate.

She could say it was the wedding all she wants, because it made a lot more sense. Or even the night that Quinn came to New York and they sort of just found their feelings then. But she knew that it had started long before then. It was planted in her and it had quietly grown as she had gone through the experiences that she had needed to, waiting patiently.

''Hey...''

Santana blinked as Quinn poked her foot with her own toe, because they were foot to foot on the couch.

''What'cha thinking about?''

Her girlfriend - yep, her girlfriend, asked softly with curious hazel-green eyes from the opposite side of their couch. Santana limply holds her Kindle in her hands, and she has no real idea how long she's been out of it for, but there's a tug of a smirk playing on the corner of Quinn's mouth, so she figures it's a while.

''You.''

Quinn smiles. That sweet, full smile that hardly ever made an appearance in school, and gives Santana tingles every time she sees it - especially when its because of her.

''What about me?''

'''Bout when I fell in love with you.''

''When did you fall in love with me?''

Santana smirked softly.

''The day in New York when you were freaking out over everything.''

Quinn seems surprised. Santana hasn't really told her that before, probably because she's never really realised it until now before. It's Sunday, and they live in Los Angeles now. They got a shoebox of a first apartment together back in New York after Quinn graduated, and by then they'd been together for just over a year. And they just worked.

And they had worked. Santana had found a better job at a studio, and she had worked her way up to getting demo's together and singing at lounges where people took notice. Quinn did well on the acting circuit in New York, and actually landed a spot as a rookie cop pretty quickly in a police drama that was really successful. After a year and a half of that, they had decided they would make the move to Los Angeles when Quinn got offered a substantial TV spot and Santana had recorded an album.

It was so bizarre how it had fallen into place. Like, finally finding themselves, and making the right decisions had given way to everything else - the dreams they had for themselves and them as a couple.

''Seriously? I was a mess, baby.''

Santana still loved it when Quinn called her that. And she rolled her shoulders, smirking gently.

''You were a beautiful mess. Anyways, I didn't know I had fallen in love with you. But I think...the whole thing started there. It's when I really saw you.''

Quinn wonders how in the midst of that Santana could find anything remotely special enough to fall in love with her. But she doesn't question it, because she's learnt how to be loved. Some of that she did for herself, some of it was growing up at college, and dating and quite a big part of it had been Puck. But what had really fit, what had felt so right and natural, was being loved by Santana.

''You're such a romantic.''

The Latina narrowed her eyes teasingly.

''Don't spread that around, bitch.''

The blonde laughed and rolled her eyes with a short shake of her head.

''Right, because the three very sappy love songs on your album don't give you away!''

''Ya but, no one knows that yet. I still have a little time.''

In one week her album would officially drop. And from the success of her first official single all signs pointed toward success. They hadn't been in LA long, Quinn had only just met her new coworkers (because she refused to say co-stars, yet). They were on the tipping point of their dreams - and they were there together.

''I know it. Our friends know it. Hell, my Mom even knows it! Accept the truth, babe. You're a closet sap!''

Santana moved, and made Quinn squeal and laugh as she grabbed her ankles and pulled to slide her down the couch so she was flat instead of sat up, and she crawled right over her. Quinn was still smirking as she ran her hands through the dark hair that cascaded down to bubble them off from reality.

''Only when it comes to you, Q.''

Quinn just smiled against her girlfriend's mouth, into the kiss that she initiated, and thought just how fucking lucky she was. Maybe all the pain and drama had just been necessary, and if it was, then she'd happily go through it all again so that she could end up here.

''Love you, baby.''

''I love you too, beautiful.''


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings – Triggers for past sexual violence/death/suicide/drugs. Altogether it's DARK.
> 
> This is a combination of a prompt/request from a couple of readers, experiences I'm aware of, and fiction.

''Get out.''

The tone was low – an eerily calm, simmering with fury and threat. The kind of tone that was worse than being shouted at – the ultimate calm, cool and sinister menace that was beyond intimidating.

Two heads popped up from the pillows on the bed – one she recognised, one she didn't. The storm that was whirling inside of her chest was indescribable, something she had never experienced in her life before. She felt like ripping something or someone apart, limb-by-limb, taking out her revenge and anger and pain. But she didn't, she remained still – sitting barely in control in the armchair in the corner of the room where wall met window across the space of the room.

''Shit. Q I…''

''Get. Out. Right now.''

Irate green eyes didn't fixate on the woman who spoke they fixated on the woman that didn't. The woman she didn't recognise – the woman that wasn't her wife. She stared her down with so much force that it was like watching a bird of pray watch its next victim, eyes perfectly cold and attuned and alert. Possibly what serial killers looked like when they were doing their business.

Quinn didn't move as the stranger slid out of the bed – her bed – and tried to pick up clothes with some amount of class, which didn't work. Without a word she tiptoed out of the bedroom trying to upkeep the little shred of dignity she thought she had and vanished from sight, trying to be small and quiet as she headed for the nearest exist of the house.

Silence reigned over the bedroom like a heavy, thick suffocating cloud. Long minutes passed with just that – silence and hurt and emptiness.

''Everyone told me this would happen. They told me not to marry you. Instead I trusted you, and I busted my ass to come home early to spend time with you – and here you are, fucking some other girl in our bed. Our bed, Santana!''

Her voice wasn't quiet anymore – rising with each word as her fury and her pain started to show through, voice cracking in places as she struggled to control her breathing and herself. She was so angry – who wouldn't be? How did people deal with this? How did they cope in this exact situation? Did they cry? Did they walk out? Did they scream and shout or just pretend it didn't happen?

What was she supposed to do? Sit here? Stand up? Wait to hear what her adulterous wife had to say? Leave before she could say anything? Did she ask who the skank that had been in her bed was? If she was better in bed than she was? How many times had they fucked? How many other girls had there been? Had Santana been doing this right beneath her nose the entire time they had been together?

There were so many goddamn questions that it made her head hurt and her chest tighten. She felt stupid and vulnerable and exposed – guilty even, and she hadn't been the one doing anything wrong. No, she had been in New York for work and waxing fucking lyrical about how things were with her wife – who had been here, touching somebody else, tasting somebody else and desecrating their home.

She could see everybody's faces right now when they found out – the 'I told you so' faces. The ones she should have listened to in the first place it seemed.

Quinn stood up without really thinking about it, her body so agitated that she didn't have much control over it right now.

''Quinn I'm…''

''Don't! Don't say you're sorry. Don't you dare say you're sorry! I can't….I can't deal with this.''

The quickly crumbling blonde turned sharply after cutting off her wife and started to walk across the bedroom floor toward the door. In a state of panic Santana practically fell out of the bed and scrambled to pull on some discarded sweatpants and a t-shirt, quickly setting after Quinn before she could leave the house.

She didn't know how she had let this happen but she knew she couldn't let her leave – not like this. Her heart was seizing in her chest and the future that flashed before her eyes without Quinn was like her worst nightmare. Somehow – and she didn't know how – but somehow she had to repair this.

''Don't leave – please don't leave. Talk to me about this…shout at me, fuck – hit me if you want I don't care, just stay and work through this.''

Quinn whirled around as Santana had caught up with her and grabbed her wrist – wrenching it back and taking a step back but pinning the Latina with a look that actually made her feel sick to her stomach.

''Fuck you! Work through this? You don't get to sound like you're the one that didn't break us. How could you do this to me?''

Quinn demanded as she shoved Santana back away from her, not really noticing the hot tears piercing her eyes as the pain finally contorted across her face.

''I didn't…''

''Is she better than me? Am I not enough for you? How long have you been fucking other girls in our bed? Is this just a big joke to you?''

Santana didn't necessarily try to stop Quinn from venting her anger as she kept advancing and pushing her back with short, sporadic shoves that weren't all that hard but attested more to the state of pain that she was in. The Latina tried to clutch her hands sometimes in effort to try and help her communicate her regret.

That was until she was shoved up against the kitchen island and she had nowhere else to step back to.

''No! Please Quinn we can get past this…I swear to god it was just this once. I'm so sorry…I don't know why I did it, okay? I love you…I love you I'm sorry…I'll do anything – anything, please don't leave. We belong together please.''

Really, this was possibly the first time that Santana had begged anyone for anything, but when needs must and you were terrified that you had fucked up the best thing in your life, you would literally do anything.

Quinn was still. Still and broken and sad. Santana clung onto her tightly and now she was a crying mess too. She pulled Quinn into her and pressed her forehead against hers.

''I swear its never happened before I don't know why it did I can't…I fucked up – I'm fucked up. I can…I'll go to therapy and we can go together. I'll do anything just please don't leave me. Please, I'm sorry – I love you.''

When she pressed her lips against Quinn's she could taste the salt of both their tears. The blonde didn't kiss her back at first but eventually her mouth moved and Santana sighed in sweeping relief. Slowly but surely Quinn kissed her back – reacted with a soft sigh when she ran her tongue across her lip seeking entrance, and she was granted it.

It was intense and emotional and deep and there was so much there, so much to lose – so much to waste.

But the comfort of Santana's kiss was destroyed by a taste that wasn't hers.

''N-no! No! I trusted you. She's all over you…how can you just…how do you expect me to deal with that? You have someone else all over you. You think everything can just go back to normal? This is…this is…I don't even know how to express what you've done Santana. Do you know how fucking stupid I feel right now? How am I supposed to trust you? How am I supposed to believe a fucking word that comes out of your mouth? How am I supposed to…supposed to believe that you love me?''

Quinn stepped away completely dejected and kept stepping back until she fell into a chair. Santana remained frozen where she was, stood against the island and terrified that she had ruined everything. She played the series of events of how this happened in her head and she had never hated herself like this ever before.

Quinn was so perfect and special and it made her stomach churn that she looked so broken right now because of her. They had been through so much and Santana knew that Quinn had been warned off of her because of her track record with relationships. But she had trusted her and now – what? Santana had just proved everyone right and destroyed the trust that Quinn had given her.

''Why, Santana? Just – why?''

Santana swallowed and looked away from Quinn and down at her feet, her body closing off and somehow getting smaller as she hunched her shoulders together and let her hair fall in front of her face.

''I don't know.''

''Bullshit. You want me to believe anything you have to say, you tell me why – right now. Or I'm gone.''

Santana let out a shaky breath and then wheezed in a breath as she ran a hand through her hair and cleared her throat. She didn't talk about this – not even to Quinn. She didn't like to even think about it let alone speak about it. But she had just promised to do anything and she didn't want to lose Quinn. For once she wanted to fight for something that she loved instead of letting it go.

''I get…scared. When things get too good, I just…it terrifies me and I do something stupid. Things weren't…they weren't great when I was younger – whatever, I don't know. Shit happened and I just…I get so far and I start thinking that maybe I can't be that good person anyone wants me to be. And then I fuck up. But I swear – I swear Quinn, this was the only time, and it doesn't mean I don't love you, I do like, so fucking much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm just fucked up.''

Quinn flailed as she scoffed.

''We've been married for three years Santana. Why now?''

''You started talking about kids. I just…I freaked out. I'm sorry. I didn't even…I didn't even like her it was just…I guess trying to make myself be what I feel that I am.''

''Which is what?''

Santana shrugged and stared at the floor. There were echoes in her ears of words long past that continued to haunt her. Whisperings that forced in the self-doubt and the self-loathing and everything else that came with her childhood. It's like no matter how far she came she just couldn't wash it off. She had honestly thought that Quinn would make it go away somehow, that because she was so beautiful and pure and loving, that the sins of her past would leave her skin. But it didn't work like that – it would never wash off. It would follow her forever, and it was always going to pollute her soul. Suddenly, in the fact of tonight, she wondered what the point of trying was.

She didn't answer but instead she just slid down to sit on the floor.

''It doesn't matter. I did it and I can't blame you if you chose to walk out that door and leave me for good. You deserve a lot better.''

She sniffed and looked up guiltily and as though something had just been taken out of her. Like, a moment ago she had been Santana and now something invisible had reached inside and snatched away a piece of her soul. It was a little disturbing actually; Quinn wasn't sure what it was but it gave her a bad feeling. In some ways it was worse than the feeling she had already.

Santana was a complicated, confusing and difficult woman to love. She didn't necessarily make it hard on purpose but loving her was like wrestling a bull or climbing a mountain. There were walls riddled throughout that girl that would impress the hardiest of people and it had been a hard slog to push through, but Quinn had persevered because like it or not she just loved her.

All of Santana's closest friends had advised her not to marry her. The people that were actually supposed to love her and support her had pulled Quinn aside and said that she would hurt her, probably cheat on her. She had heard the same kinds of things when they had started dating but Santana was just like a shining light. Quinn was a moth to a flame, she couldn't help herself. And in that respect they had been fine up until today.

They had had their ups and downs like everyone else, it was a relationship that needed to be worked at and they had both put a lot of effort into it. Was she supposed to ignore that? Was she supposed to walk away at this point or see if there was anyway that they could get past this? Would she do it again?

It was five whole years of her life. A hard earned life, love and relationship. Did she walk away from all of that for one mistake? Or was that one mistake too big?

They sat there for a long time in silence, each thinking their own thoughts, as the atmosphere was still and heavy.

''I do love you, Quinn.''

''I believe you.''

''And I promise you it's never happened before.''

''I actually believe that too.''

After sitting here and thinking about it she actually did. The one thing that Quinn could pretty much always count on was Santana's honesty. She was honest with what she wanted to be honest about, but at least you could usually trust it. She had told her about her past relationships and the girls and the fooling around. She had never fully explained it, just said that she was stupid and that relationships were a scary concept for her. She said that she wasn't perfect, she had flaws and she'd try to work on them – and she actually had.

Quinn had always known there was much more within Santana that she didn't know or understand. However, the Latina had confronted so many things, and opened up to her, trusted her with things that she had never trusted anyone with.

There was more silence and Santana sat with her knees up and her arms leant on them, head ducked down.

''You owe it to me to explain yourself, Santana. You don't get to try and keep me here, and you don't get to try and push me away. You tell me the truth.''

The slightly shorter woman rolled her shoulders weakly – dejectedly. The defeat had set in, clawing around her insides and squeezing, and she felt so numb because of it. So numb that the words began to fall out of her mouth before she could guard and censor them like she had been doing her entire life.

''What do you want me to say, Quinn? That I had a shitty, abusive Father that screwed me up? I did and he did, okay? He would…he would make us watch. We were just kids and he…he'd make us watch all of this porn, the violent kind. And then he'd make us watch him. If we cried he'd beat us. Most of the time he did anyway. My Father was a sadistic, narcissistic, violent rapist, Quinn – does that do it for you? Fuck! My brother didn't OD he committed fucking suicide – he couldn't cope.

It's not an excuse for what I just did…there is no excuse. I messed up when I swore to you that I would never do this, because all I know how to do is hurt people. It's the Lopez way. I'm sorry, you're so special to me, but you should just run for your life.''

Like some unstoppable force it came pouring out of her like poison. For that moment she lost herself, unaware if Quinn was still there or not, unaware that she was actually saying it until she snapped back into reality.

The words felt like they echoed throughout the still of the evening, making her panic and instantly regret opening her mouth. These secrets she never uttered. Out of fear, out of shame and blame and guilt and disgust. She had been convinced for years that they would infect others like it had infected her – and she couldn't cope with the idea of infecting Quinn like that. Of dragging her into the darkness too. Or seeing the fear and disgust reflected back at her.

But now in a rush of hurt and disorientation, maybe the deepest sabotage even, they were out there and they could no longer be denied. That part of her world was unlocked, somebody knew, and that meant it was real. When it was real, it could no longer be forced into the pit of her stomach, or the far recesses of her mind where she struggled every second of everyday to make it just a nightmare of a dream – not something that actually happened to her.

The vile truth once out in the air could not be taken back, and in a flash of pain and terror and shame, as her stomach churned, Santana bolted. A moment later she aggressively vomited the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl she somehow managed to get hunched over in time.

Her strength was a front. It was pure survival; she had never known anything else. To be honest the only person that had ever made her feel like she wasn't alone since her brother died, had been Quinn. She had made her feel. She had made her love.

Santana almost hated her for that, but she couldn't just quite bring herself to.

She flinched at the faintest touch on her shoulder, before her hair was pulled back. The kindness seemed so alien right now, and if her body hadn't have felt so weak right now, she would have tried to resist it. She couldn't. She shook, and her skin was clammy, and so she let Quinn help her throw up and after, she shuffled back to lean against the cold tile of the bathroom.

Quinn shifted just enough to dampen a facecloth, then moved to sit next to her wife as she put the fabric against her wife's forehead.

''Why didn't you tell me that before?''

Santana, somewhere between lost and relieved, angry and pained, held a shrug for a moment – still too cowardly to chance looking Quinn in the eye.

''I don't want anybody to know. I especially didn't want you to know – 'cos then you'd know what I come from. It was cold, and violent and sick – and I thought if you knew that, you wouldn't love me. And I know I don't deserve it, but…I dunno.''

He always said she'd amount to nothing and no one would love her. Santana knew she had held that in her head and let herself sabotage anything that had come close to a healthy, loving relationship because she was trying to keep control of how it would inevitably end. At least it was better than her being rejected like he said she would be.

He had told her that she was poison, and she was an object, and she was nothing. Why wouldn't she think that she would ultimately be abusive too? She had tried so hard to stop herself from being with Quinn – she had tried so many times to push her away, but it never worked. Quinn would always break through the barrier; she would pull something out of her – things that she didn't even know were there.

She made her feel happy. She'd make her forget. She'd touch her with so much love and adoration, whispering to her how much she loved her when she'd spend hours worshipping her. Quinn didn't fuck her she made love to her, it was nothing like she had witnessed, and it was no longer about sating her sexual needs and being in control. It was about connecting and sharing, and being a part of one another. Santana had gotten addicted to it, and it had made her forget just for a little while that underneath all of that, the rotten core was waiting to infect it all.

It had been easier to forget before Quinn had edged onto the subject of family – because fuck, who in their right mind would ever want her as a parent to something so innocent and pure?

''I knew I should never have married you, or pulled you into this…this fucked up life in the first place. It was selfish of me.''

Quinn sighed sadly and shifted slightly so that she faced Santana rather than sat at the side of her, and she thought momentarily of the home they had created together – how sometimes Santana had needed so much guidance, like she'd had no idea how to build a home or a life like that. Now she realised that she literally didn't, because she'd lived through a nightmare. They had a pretty good life, they were successful and money wasn't a problem and they enjoyed a good lifestyle with friends and had a lot to be happy about – but she'd had to teach Santana how to connect with that.

''Santana – did he…did he rape you?''

The Latina flinched, and tried to force back the sting of hot tears, and tried to resist the surge of memories that haunted her head.

''He tried.''

''What happened?''

She stared into nowhere, eyes haunted and pale now, glistening with tears that slowly stole their way down her face.

''Antonio – he uh…he picked up this ornament, hit him on the back of the head. All of a sudden he was just still, I was underneath him and everything stopped…I didn't know what was happening until the blood. There was a lot of blood.''

''Jesus…''

''That was the last time anyone ever touched me without me being in control. I was 14. Antonio was 16 – he killed him. For me. The police said it was defense of a third person but…it emptied his soul. It broke him. I tried to make it up to him – I tried to take care of him, but the drugs started and I lost him. It's my fault.''

Antonio had purposefully OD'd when he was 24 – he had left a note, saying how much he loved her and how much he wished he had been strong enough to live for her. It had broken her heart, all she'd had through her childhood was her big brother, they had stuck together and tried to heal one another as best they could. They were the only ones that could understand, the only one Santana had ever been able to talk to about what they went through. And she had been convinced, after his death, that if he had just let their Father do what he intended, it would have been different for him.

She felt sick. Sick thinking about that time, the things she'd seen and lived through. Sick knowing her brother was gone, that not only wasn't she strong enough to save him or tether him but also that it was her fault he'd killed their Father. And she was sick at herself now - for breaking her vows, for letting someone else touch her, for taking someone else in the bed she shared with her wife.

Santana buckled in a whirlwind of pain and regret and the torturous demons yelled all at once in her head, making her feel dizzy and disorientated. Her world was crumbling. She didn't even realise at first that she was breaking down – that the floodgates had opened, until she realised that Quinn had pulled her forward into her and wrapped her up so tight, so safe and lovingly. Which made it all the worse.

Because those arms weren't safe, not anymore – she had made them unsafe. She had tainted the only other relationship she had ever truly loved. She didn't deserve her kindness, or her love, and she didn't want her pity, either.

''Santana…you need help with this, you need to talk to a professional.''

The Latina scoffed and pulled away abruptly.

''No I don't! They stuck me in a fucking therapeutic group home before, I hated it.''

Santana scowled as she tried to force Quinn back away from her, flinching away from the blonde and all her warmth and comfort, but her wife caught her wrists and ducked her head in order to establish some eye contact, intent on making her look at her and becoming an unmovable force. Unwilling to be forced away, or scared away, or to molly coddle.

''Yes, you do! Look at you! You're the strongest person I know and you've believed all this time that you're not worth anything. That's not normal – it's fucked up. Not you, the situation. It's not selfish to want to love somebody and be loved by them – I can't imagine how it felt growing up like that but whatever your Dad put in your head isn't true. I never really got it until now but you really don't understand how special you are, do you?''

This time Santana managed to push Quinn off with a forceful shove, making her fall back softly onto her ass because she had been crouching, and she scurried to get up and back away.

''How can you even say that after tonight? Don't defend me! I don't want your fucking pity just because you know my Father was a bastard now. I just fucked someone else, be angry with me! Tell me how fucked up I am – tell me I'm not worth the effort and leave.''

Quinn flailed as she got to her feet, eyes flashing dangerously and darkly.

''I am angry! You have no fucking idea how angry I am. I want to burn my own goddamn bed and every single thing she touched with it. I want to scream at you until I lose my voice because this hurts so much and you have no idea how I would love to just not be in love with you right now. But I am! I always am you're just…there. It's infuriating. I can't fucking walk away from you, not because I pity you and not because of this. I can't walk away from you because I love you and I want to be with you…''

She yelled so loudly that it rang off of the tile, and she panted as she stalled for a moment, ears ringing and with a realisation – a knowing – in her chest that she couldn't walk away from the woman in front of her.

Quinn was helpless against her, she was hers. It would kill her to walk away. It would kill her to forsake their life together, no matter how hard it would be to move on from this. But she couldn't.

She'd never been in love with anyone the way she was in love with Santana, and it was bittersweet because she'd never wanted to leave and stay so much at the same time, because she'd never been so in love and so hurt and angry at the same time.

She scoffed out a watery, half laugh at this as she ran a hand through her hair.

''Whether that makes me an idiot or not, I don't know. But we have worked so hard, Santana. I hate you right now, but I just don't have it in me to get up and walk away. I need you too much. And I don't give a shit what you want me to do, or even what you want. You're going to a therapist and you're going to tell them everything, and you're going to work on getting your head together.''

She ordered firmly, taking a step forward to a startled Santana and with shaking hands cupped her clammy, tear stained face.

''Don't you get it? It was never your fault. You're not the sick one, Antonio wasn't either – that was all your Father. And you didn't kill your brother, Santana – never in a million years would he ever want you to think that. You were both victims, you were children and you should have been protected. I'm so sorry that you went through that. But it doesn't make me love you less it makes me love you more – you don't scare me, Santana Lopez. So don't even try to chase me away.

You don't get to fuck this up. I can work on forgiving you and labelling this as a mistake – but you bet your ass you'll have to earn every bit of my trust back. But most of all you'll let me love you. You have to just let me, Santana. I can't do this without you letting go and actually trusting yourself and me, and believing that you are not your Father and we can be different. So if you're really willing to do anything then do that. For me and for yourself. For Antonio.''

It terrified her to think of what they could lose. She felt desperation set in, joining the love and the hate, the anger and pain – tugging at her to make sure that she salvaged her marriage. Santana was her life. This was her life. And she may never have known the details of what the Latina kept hidden from everyone in her life, but she had known it was there, and something had told her that when she found out it would sicken her. And it did.

What Santana had lived through was twisted, she'd lost the one family member that loved her and she loved in return, and god knows what had happened with her Mother through all of this – but the idea that Santana believed it was her fault or that she was tainted was abhorrent to Quinn. The idea that Santana thought she saw her like that was abhorrent.

What she saw was phenomenal. What she saw was intelligence, and beauty, and depth, and compassion and charisma. She saw strength, and for five whole years she had adored this woman even when she pissed her off and pushed her to edges she'd never even known were there – she'd held her hand, and kissed her, let her touch her, eaten with her, lived with her, showered, slept, yawned, yelled, cuddled, dressed, danced, drank, caught cabs, talked politics, taken vacations and introduced her to her family – all with the perfectly upheld belief that Santana was the one, that she was her idea of perfect imperfection, and that she didn't pose a threat to her other than being dangerous enough to break her heart.

Her history may not have been an excuse for tonight, but it went a long way to explain it – to put it into context. Santana was sabotaging herself because she was petrified that she would hurt a child. That Quinn would turn into her Mother, and let her – be hurt by her.

And though she'd never gotten to meet Antonio, regretfully, she automatically knew that he would never want her to believe any of this was her fault. She had two brothers herself, she understood sibling devotion. Santana had told her that he had accidentally overdosed, and she wished even more so right now that he was here, so he could help her make his sister understand that.

Santana swallowed thickly.

''What if…what if I can't?''

''If you can't then this ends right now. I walk out of here and you never see me again. We get a divorce and you fuck all the strange you want.''

Quinn let her hands drop away as her voice broke emotionally.

''Quinn I…I want to, I do. I wish you could feel all the love I have for you, but what if it isn't enough? What if I can't repair this, or myself…what if I make you miserable?''

Santana patted her chest as to emphasise inside of herself, with a shake of her head and a pleading tone to her voice. Pleading to be absolved, for tonight, from her marriage, for wanting that, for everything. It was all a massive tangle of crap.

''Because of the way you love me, Santana. Do you realise what that's like? Have you ever stopped to think about why I love you? It's because you're special – do you really get that you tell me you love me every single day? Everyday Santana. Without fail.''

''And that bastard loved my Mom – in some warped, twisted, controlling and sickly abusive way, he did.''

Quinn shook her head stubbornly.

''You're not him. You're not. And I'm not her, either. I bet he never tried to push her away to set her free. Or cried when he hurt her. Or whispered to her at night, supported her ambitions and her lows as well as her highs. Like you do. You've never forced anything I wasn't willing to give, and I'm not exactly a peach either, Santana. So the way I see it your argument is invalid. You took an oath, live up to it.''

''Oaths don't mean anything! Don't you get that?''

Santana yelled, not understanding why Quinn was trying so hard to fight. How she could feel so betrayed yet be willing to stand here and fight for her.

''Yes they do! And I know you believe in yours, because I was stood right there with you when you took yours, and I saw how much it meant to you. You can't hide from me. And I see how you look now, knowing what you've done. It means something. You're not a monster. You may be bull headed, and defensive and resistant sometimes, but you're loving, and gentle, and loyal. You go out of your way to put me first, you're romantic and sweet and remarkable. It's okay to have fears and doubts, and I understand more of why you do now. I see that you think you're broken beyond repair, that you think you're ugly and repulsive and will only end up treating me like you saw your Dad treat your Mom – or our child like he treated you. Thing is, you would never do that.

I know that Santana. I know you would rather die. I know you'd love and cherish and protect our children, and me. I love you because I see who you really are, not who you think you are – and I love you as a whole.

And I have spent far too much time forcing my way through your walls, earning your trust I know that I can't stop loving you. You're it. You're my everything Santana. You just are and I can't…I don't think I can be without you. I'm begging you to do this for me – please don't do this to us, don't sabotage us, please. I already feel like I've been ripped open, don't punk out the rest of the way.

I can – I will forgive you if you fight for this.''

She started out yelling back, mostly it was the passion of her words, mixed in with a little of the anger she was feeling. She was tired – she had only gotten home from three days away with work, it was late and she was overwhelmed by everything. Overwhelmed by finding her wife in bed with someone else, and just how gutting that truly was. But also by the fear Santana would be swallowed up by everything she had confessed and thought of herself.

Even with the infidelity, she couldn't just let Santana believe she was those things. It was too cruel, too gross, too untrue. No matter what she loved her enough to do that. To be an anchor, a rock – to begin to process this, and the cheating, as what it was – a way to try to release her from their marriage because she thought she was poison.

Now though, she saw her wife there, her eyes held some of that strength again – she was recognisable as she reached forward and took hold of her shoulders.

''Please don't do that, Quinn you shouldn't be begging me for anything. I fucked up not you. I have no idea why you love me so much, but I…I'll fight for you. I'll do whatever you want me to do.''

''Thank you.''

Quinn swallowed thickly, her throat was dry and soar, she ached, and she was exhausted. Relief surged through her, despite that it was exhausting thinking of the task ahead. It was going to take so much time and effort to deal with this – but she clung to the fact that she knew it would be worth it, and that she would rather do it than let go.

Santana nodded vaguely, and Quinn could see the same thing running through Santana's eyes. She was so vulnerable, so afraid, and the blonde knew she wasn't asking for something simple. She wasn't expecting this to be easy, Santana was going to need a lot of support. She was asking a lot of of her and the fact that she was willing to go through the painful process of dealing with her past, and the identity that had formed around it, attested to how strong she was and how much she loved her.

''Quinn you…you're the only person that's ever made me feel like it might be possible. You're the only person that's ever made me happy. You don't even get how much you changed my life. When…when the darkness comes, and I feel totally worthless, I'd look at you and it gave me something to hold onto.''

Santana let the awe she felt filter into her voice, because she was awed by it. Those nights she'd woken in a panic, sweating and heart racing, disorientated and ready to upchuck, she had felt Quinn's warmth, smelt her smell and got to look at her, be anchored by her. It had been invaluable. It had saved her.

All those moments of insecurity when her thoughts would come close to dragging her totally under, she'd get to watch Quinn do something insignificant, like talking on the phone, or grating cheese or chuckling at something on TV, and it had made her feel better. And all those times when she'd been insecure, or vulnerable, and didn't know how to act or react to people – Quinn had just taken her hand and guided her through it all.

Like now, when she reached out and took her hand with a squeeze, holding them up between them.

''When the darkness comes you can always hold my hand, and we'll face it together now. It is possible, people heal from the worst kinds of circumstances. We won't let him win – this is your revenge; don't you see that? By being happy, that's how you turn him into nothing, and you honor your brother.''

Santana sniffed through a new wave of tears as she fixated on their joined hands for a moment, before nodding and looking at her wife again.

''I never wanted to hurt you.''

''I know.''

''It's so fucking stupid, I tried not to hurt you by hurting you.''

''Right now what matters is how we move forward and deal with this.''

She tried not to think too much about what exactly would entail, because thinking too far forward all at once would be too much.

''Which is how?''

''Therapy. Both of us. Separately and together. I don't forgive you, not yet – but I'll work through that, it's my promise to you. I can't stay in this house though – I don't even want to walk in that bedroom.''

The thought of going in there made her feel sick. Knowing that stranger had touched Santana in here, that her smell would be lingering there, knowing she'd cum in their bed…it made her so fucking angry and like she wanted to scream.

''Okay…''

''I want to move.''

''Okay.''

Santana nodded, totally resolved to doing whatever Quinn wanted. She got the bedroom thing, and she got that the sanctity of their home had been broken.

''I know it's farfetched but…''

''No, this is our home and I made it not be. We'll move.''

Maybe it was for the best anyway. She kind of felt like this was a new chapter for them, almost. Her deepest secret was out now, she had let Quinn see it, this was going to be a totally new stage for them. And she wasn't comfortable knowing these walls had seen her do what she had done, didn't want the constant whispering reminder that she had let another woman cross this threshold into what she had painstakingly built with Quinn.

A new start sounded perfect.

''Okay, good. Then I need you to get her off of you, and then we can go to a hotel. We can either stay there or rent somewhere until we find a new place, I don't care – but it needs two bedrooms. I'm fighting for this marriage too Santana but I can't sleep next to you tonight, maybe for a little while.''

As painful and gutting as it was, Santana understood that too. Quinn's voice wasn't without the love and compassion she was using to keep them together, but it was full of hurt, anger and frustration too. She had to give her the space she needed because she deserved it, she had a right to it, and Santana wasn't about to use her past to get out of this with Quinn. She didn't deserve an easy pass, they had to work through it properly, and that meant time, space and openness.

''I get it.''

''I'll wait for you in the living room, make a reservation while you shower.''

''Okay.''

Quinn gave her hand another light squeeze, indicating that she wasn't saying it out of malice, and then moved toward the door. Tiredly, Santana swallowed around the lump in her throat.

''Quinn?''

''Yeah?''

The blonde stopped and turned slightly, eyebrows raised slightly, as Santana looked back at her with a weak but meaningful smile.

''I love you.''

Quinn, despite everything, reflected that smile back. And the hope for the future was unmistakable between them.

They would, and could, get through this.

''I love you too.''


	16. Flirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This here is a prompt I got that is apparently a prompt on a glee kink meme board (which I didn't know existed) – so it's fluff/smut, so if you're not into that, don't read this! 
> 
> The prompt was pretty much what happens, Quinntana are in a relationship but Santana is a flirt, and after a flirt gone wrong Quinn 'punishes' Santana like she does below.

As Santana Lopez sauntered up toward the table, Rachel Berry's jaw dropped incredulously, her eyes darting between the self-satisfied Latina and the seemingly half oblivious blonde sitting to her right. Quinn Fabray seemed as effortlessly confident as she usually did, sitting back in her chair, legs crossed, eyes scanning the paper she had picked up from the table in front of them.

Rachel had been at a loss as what to say as Santana seemed to have flirted with the barista of the coffee house they were currently occupying, as Quinn was sat right there with an unobstructed view of her behaviour. Rachel was not usually a woman of few words, but right now she struggled to find the right ones.

Santana, carrying a small tray with their drinks on it, was also clutching a little piece of paper that very much looked like a name and phone number.

''O-oh my god Santana, did you just flirt with that girl?''

She couldn't help it, completely taken aback, the words just fell out of her mouth in utter shock. Santana's grin widened as she leant down to set the tray on the table.

''Yep. Scored her number, too!''

She bragged easily, setting everybody's mug in front of them before shoving the tray onto an empty nearby table. Rachel's head shot to Quinn, who simply lifted an unperturbed eyebrow.

''I don't…I don't understand…''

Santana took her seat next to Quinn, and gazed humorously toward her girlfriend, happy, smug, loving and sweetly. There had been no news of separation, or any change of any kind in their relationship, so Rachel was completely lost. Her friends had been together for almost three years - Quinn was her longest standing friend, they had known one another for a very long time that their friendship extended to something more like sisters. They told one another pretty much everything. If anything was happening with Santana, Rachel knew it would be her that Quinn would speak to. But she hadn't.

''Santana seems to think she's god's gift to women, and her flirting skills should not be denied to the female population.''

Quinn explained casually, although with a hint of dry sarcasm mixed in their to make it obvious that she did not subscribe to this belief. Rachel's frown deepened.

''So you…flirt? With other women?''

The Latina rolled her shoulders.

''Why not? It's harmless.''

Rachel's frown morphed quickly into surprise, eyebrows now raising up toward her forehead in disbelief.

''Is it? What about Quinn? She was sitting right here!''

Santana's arm extended out, fingers moving to stroke through silky blonde locks at the back of her head.

''Quinn knows it's harmless, I would never do anything. It's just a little harmless fun, Berry. It's not like I'm fucking them right in front of her.''

Santana was strongly opinionated in this area. She had always been a flirt. She found it easy to talk to women, to charm them, to make them feel good. And it made her feel good. There was an art to it, and she liked that feeling of the thrill of the chase. Plus it came so naturally. She didn't see the big deal.

Sometimes, every now and then, Quinn would get a little pissed off. Depending. It was hot though, and she'd take control and the sex would be amazing. The blonde was a confident, self assured woman. She knew that Santana would never step over a line, she understood her reasonings, and she even got off on it sometimes. They had trust in their relationship, a trust like she'd never truly experienced before. They were happy. They understood one another, and they had adapted to each other's…proclivities.

''Still, I just don't think it's appropriate. If Finn did that in front of me, I would chop his balls off.''

Quinn silently shifted to pick up her coffee, eyes still scanning the paper, not moving away from Santana's affectionate stroking through her hair.

''Why? If you trust each other, then there's no need to get jealous. I mean, it's nice to throw it in there now and then for the sex, but just to mix things up.''

Santana sipped her drink too, and Rachel looked between them. When Quinn had first started mentioning Santana, she could tell that there was something different. There was this look she would get, and Rachel had only seen it once or twice before when the blonde spoke about girls. And then she had met her, and she has instantly seen it. There was something very special between them. Very powerful, and intense, and raw and deep. Quinn was a massive personality, Rachel had seen plenty of women run scared, but it had seemed that in Santana her friend had found everything she needed and what's more, the same seemed to be true for Santana.

''What do you think of this, Quinn?''

Rachel asked directly, wanting to hear her friend actually voice this apparent opinion. Her eyes lifted from the paper, alert and precise.

''Despite the fact that I don't necessarily agree with the idea that she's some Pied Piper for women, she is naturally flirty and I do trust her. Although I'd prefer it not to happen as often as it does.''

Rachel shook her head.

''I just can't subscribe to that. In the very least, it's disrespectful. If you love someone, you don't hit on other people in front of their faces.''

''Would it be better if I did it behind her back?''

''It would be better if you didn't do it at all!''

Rachel snapped, feeling herself getting offended and defensive on behalf of Quinn. And for anyone in a relationship. Santana just scoffed and rolled her eyes.

''Oh please, everyone flirts. You flirt. I've seen you. Especially to get your own way. Quinn does it too. So what's more dishonest, letting her see she has nothing to worry about, or doing it behind her back and making her think she does?''

Rachel opened her mouth to respond, but fell short of a reply. She scowled petulantly, because despite the fact that she really wanted to object, she couldn't. She did flirt sometimes, here and there, in a totally harmless way. It wasn't an everyday thing, but it happened and if she thought about it logically then sure, her husband may have done the same thing. There were no ill intentions behind it, so maybe Santana did have a point. If that was just who she was, and she had made Quinn fully aware of this, then maybe it was harmless.

''Whatever.''

Santana laughed.

''Whatever! You totally know it makes sense. No harm no foul.''

The conversation ended up shifting onto more typical coffee house conversation, Quinn finally put down the paper she had been so interested in, and they had caught up the last two weeks since they had seen one another last. They were three busy women living in New York, so sometimes a few weeks could pass by without any chance to sit down and talk face to face.

Quinn made the most effort with Rachel, though, because as Santana knew, they were more like family. Really, probably the only family that Quinn could boast. Her Father had been out of the picture since her teens, and her Mother only lived on the peripheral of their lives. There was a sister, but apparently they had never been close and the communication between them was even less than her Mother. Quinn was a self made woman, who had little in the way of familial connections but instead had created a solid foundation of important friendships and had succeeded in a professional aspect as she did.

She was intelligent, and thoughtful, she introspected, and held her intensity with strength, power and confidence. Santana had been instantly attracted to that, it was beyond sexy. A woman fully aware of herself, of her sexuality, of her use of it, of her prowess and power. A woman that didn't shy away from intensity, or intimacy, or complication. She needed that as well as craved it.

Later, in the privacy of their own space, Santana moved fluidly through from their bedroom into the large, full bathroom that Quinn was getting ready for bed in. The Latina moved up behind her, slipping her arms around her, hands immediately moving to cup Quinn's breasts over her bra and shirt, pushing the weight of her body into the slightly taller woman's firmly enough to effectively wedge her. Santana's mouth pressed a kiss against a pale, smooth neck, and by the time she placed another one, Quinn's head had tilted in welcome.

''Hmm, you smell so good baby. So sexy.''

Quinn smiled a little, head tilted and ducked just a little, and her arm reached up and backward to cup the back of Santana's head.

''Bet you say that to all the girls.''

Santana paused in her kisses, and there was a beat where nothing moved, but then she lifted her eyes as her head followed. She looked directly into the large, walled mirror in front of them, right into Quinn's eyes as they too lifted from gazing at the counter.

''What is that supposed to mean?''

Quinn remained silent, letting the answer linger, and Santana huffed and rolled her eyes. It could be difficult to tell when something bothered Quinn, because she was so goddamn stoic. Mostly, it was through her eyes. But it hadn't shown today, she had laughed and chatted, they had done some shopping, done a little making out and harmless groping in the fitting rooms much to Rachel's dismay when she realised they came out of the same stall. Later when Rachel left for home, they had gone for a quiet, romantic little dinner, held hands, and walked home. How the fuck with all of that was she supposed to know that Quinn had obviously been holding on to something from the coffee house?

''I thought you knew me better than that.''

Dejected, hurt even, Santana pulled away from Quinn, about to turn away but the blonde spun around to catch her wrist.

''I do, San. It's not you, exactly. I love you, and I trust you. I know you would never cheat on me.''

And she did. In her heart, her head, her very being, she knew Santana would never have sex with anyone else. Because they operated on the same wave length here. They held a certain amount of possessiveness over one another, not in an obnoxious or degrading way, neither felt they owned the other - but there was that level that made it so that their bodies were each other's, to have someone else touch them like that was actually a distressing, hideous thought. Quinn knew that Santana didn't want anyone touching her but her, that part of the reason sex was so phenomenal between them was because it was them. She felt the same.

''Then I don't see the problem.''

''That's the problem. You do it for fun, or to illicit a response from me to fuel our sex life. Which for the most part, is fine. But baby, you are charming. Someone is going to think it's real. And she'll get angry or hurt when she figures out you never had any intention of following through. That's what I worry about. Because despite all your bragging and bravado, you don't actually see how devastatingly beautiful or alluring you are.''

Santana sighed, and rolled her tongue across her lips, and looked at her girlfriend. They had had this conversation, in different variations, before. Quinn worried that one day would be a step too far, and Santana didn't. Quinn said one day she would push her too far, and Santana didn't. All that ever happened is that Quinn would fuck her senseless, and everyone was happy.

It's not like Santana thought she had to flirt to get this response out of Quinn. She didn't need to by any stretch of the imagination. They needed no excuse, guise or trigger for sex when just being in the same room ended with the same outcome. But variety was the spice of life, it was fun, and in her opinion it hurt no one.

''You sound like the disclaimer; ''may cause unwanted side effects''. But Q, it doesn't and you get off on it just as much as I do. Threatening to punish me and never following through kind've proves my point. You just don't want to admit that you're into it as much as you are.''

Quinn backed her girlfriend up to the wall, causing Santana's breath to hitch as she swallowed and let the blonde pin her their with her body, hands at either side of her head.

''I don't have a problem admitting what I'm into, Santana Lopez. I never said I didn't get off on it. I said someone is bound to get hurt at some point, and I don't really want that coming back on you or me. And maybe one day you will push me a little too far.''

Her voice was low, all husk and heat and a little thrillingly dangerous. Santana shivered, and her whole body responded to Quinn, the electricity surging through her, massing between her legs and pulling at the coil deep inside. It was so easy for Quinn to get her wet, and she was right now, body humming in anticipation.

''But for now…''

Quinn kissed her lover, and began a slow descent down her body. Her clothes were made easy work of, considering it was summer and Santana had been wearing a dress that often drove Quinn to distraction. The Latina knew that she had a lot to command with her body, she used it well, and Quinn saw countless heads turning pretty much every single time they stepped foot out of the door. Now, she made easy work of hitching the dress up, and pulling soaked panties down.

Santana's head thunked back against the walls, and her eyes lazily rested on the image of Quinn going down on her through the mirror. Her hands wove into blonde hair, and she let Quinn adjust her to drape a leg over her shoulder. Quinn drew it out, teasing and taunting her, but eventually she came with a cry and the blonde had to steady her by the hips as she did. The blonde was pretty smug with herself right then.

As payback, the next day, Santana strode into Quinn's offices and flirted with her paralegal before bending the blonde lawyer over her desk and fucking her over it.

XxX

''Noooo…''

Sleepily, and petulantly, Santana buried herself further into the comfort of their shared bed. It was Saturday. Two weeks after her little 'office stunt' (that Quinn had loved), and it was too early for the phone to be blaring into their sanctuary.

They were a tangle of limbs, face to face, so it was hard for Quinn to reach back with her arm and barely make enough contact with her phone to take hold of it and blindly answer.

''Hello? What? Are you serious, it's…it's 7:15am Glenn. You know what, stop talking, you're giving me a headache. I'm on my way.''

During the short but highly annoying phone call, Santana had rolled over to turn the other way, doing her best to ignore the offending noise. It had been a long week. They'd had a fight over grocery shopping on Monday, which had lead to some rather stubborn ignoring of one another for the entire night. So Tuesday had been shitty, until at lunchtime Santana had been presented with flowers from some delivery guy right in front of everyone at work, and they had been an apology from her girlfriend. So when she got home she had busted out some new, secret lingerie and greeted the blonde in a rather provocative position. Tuesday had been a good night.

Wednesday had been hard, her boss had ordered an impromptu meeting and had set deadlines for a huge presentation she would be baring the brunt of. It was a lot of work, and so then unsurprisingly she had dragged her ass home at nearly 10pm, exhausted and complaining that she would quite the world of financial analysis to become a lesbian porn star. Quinn had been waiting at home with a bubble bath, wine, takeout from her favourite Thai place and had listened to her moan about her job, given her a massage and let her fall asleep on her shoulder as she half watched TV and half read over a file for work in bed. Thursday had been much the same for both of them, they'd both had to work late, had been tired when they got home, but after a glass of wine and a little chit chat they had had sex in the shower. And again in bed. So at least they'd gone to sleep satisfied after a rather miserable day.

Friday had been the precursor to a supposed-to-be relaxing, great, (in Santana's mind sex filled) weekend. Work had been work, but they'd both managed to leave at a relatively decent hour. Quinn had cooked, and they had debated about politics and few things in the news, and it had been nice after that to just cuddle up on the sofa and watch a film. They made plans to go for brunch in the morning, and play it by ear what they did with the day, up until the evening as Quinn had made reservations at a popular restaurant and they'd decided to go to a club after. Sunday was a family roll call for dinner at Santana's parents' house which was hard to get out of, if one were so inclined. They were not. So that was supposed to be their weekend.

Quinn groaned out a sigh as she shoved her phone away, then turned around to spoon her girlfriend, pressing her face against the top of her back and breathing in deeply.

''What is it?''

''Some emergency with one of our top clients. A few of us are being hauled in to deal with it.''

Santana grunted.

''You're a mid-level underling, can't the big wigs deal with it? Isn't that why they get paid the most?''

She grumbled glumly. Quinn was a junior partner. So she had a pretty decent spot at their firm. It wasn't always easy, sometimes her hours made it so that they didn't have much of a relationship, but they got around it. And it wasn't always like that. She was well liked, favoured, and she was so fucking good at what she did. The first time Santana had snuck into court to watch her girlfriend in action, she'd been so turned on that she'd dragged Quinn into the bathroom and jumped her like a wild woman. She was the shit in that courtroom. The partners trusted her, and it was clear that Quinn's future was very bright. She was impressive. And they actually seemed to like the fact that she was a liberal, opinionated Democrat with a girlfriend she never once hid. Also, her paycheque was pretty sizeable. Not that that was an overriding factor, but still.

''This is how I get to be a big wig, babe. I gotta pay my dues.''

For a few minutes, they just remained still, enjoying each other's warmth and embrace. Santana turned around, and sleepily kissed her girlfriend.

''I love you.''

Quinn smiled and stroked back some sleep mussed hair from Santana's face.

''I love you too. I'll try not to be too long, okay?''

''Do what you gotta do, Q. Just keep me updated.''

''I will, but I'm determined we're still keeping our date tonight. It's pulled me through the whole week. I'll go bat shit crazy on their asses if I have to!''

Santana laughed lightly, and let Quinn kiss her again, but appreciated knowing that her girlfriend would seriously do everything possible to make it tonight.

''M'kay mamacita, you do that!''

They shared a few more kisses, and then Quinn dragged herself out of bed and quickly showered and dressed then left for work. Santana slept in a little, then went running when she got up, did some cleaning and laundry then snuck in a little work herself. She met her friend Brittany for a late lunch, and got groceries on the way home.

By 5pm Quinn still wasn't quite sure if she would be able to make it to their reservation or not. By then, Santana had started to get a little annoyed, and resigned herself to spending most of the evening alone eating cookies and watching re-runs of The X Files to cheer herself up, but at the last minute Quinn had called to say that they were on. The blonde didn't have time to come home and get ready, so she told Santana to meet her at the restaurant instead. So the Latina got herself ready, making herself look as hot as possible with mind to tease Quinn over the duration of the night before some hot, make-it-up-to-me sex tonight.

''Fabray? Table for two?''

''Of course, Madam, would you care to follow me?''

Some stuffy English dude gave her the once over, and with such a clinical reaction, Santana had no idea what he had made of her - but she didn't care. She followed him to the table that Quinn was sat at, and was just relieved that the blonde was here and stood to wrap her up in a tight embrace.

''I am so sorry, baby. I missed you so much today.''

Santana let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding.

''I missed you too, mi amor.''

Santana had been drowsy with sleep, but she definitely hadn't imagined the fact that Quinn had left home this morning dressed in black jeans, a green plaid shirt and her leather jacket with her hair in a ponytail. Now she was here, wearing a stunning red dress she'd never seen before, complete with (fuck-me) heels, perfect make up and perfect hair. She looked gorgeous - which wasn't all that hard for Quinn, but still.

They got seated again, and Quinn smiled across the table at her girlfriend as she reached over the table to join their hands together.

''You look beautiful.''

She complimented sweetly, eyes taking in the black, rather snugly fitting boob enhancing dress she was wearing. Her hair was down, slightly waved, and she just looked incredible.

''Thanks babe, so do you. What gives?''

''The paralegal you so brazenly flirted with the other week to torture me? She offered to go and buy me a dress so I could make it tonight. I got ready in the office.''

Santana quirked a rather distinctively pointed eyebrow with a told-you-so expression.

''Oh really? Wow, that really came back on us, huh? She's deranged with hurt and anger!''

Quinn chuckled with a roll of her eyes, but remained quiet as the waiter showed up with some wine she had already ordered. He made a show of popping the cork, gave both of them the eye, but then dithered at who he was supposed to give the deciding first taste to. Quinn gestured toward her girlfriend, who just smirked gently as she took the offered glass and took a sip, and nodded in approval. The waiter then poured out some more for her, then a glass for Quinn, told them about the specials and said he would be back to take their orders.

Santana gave a brief account of her day, and they laughed at one of the random conversations she'd had with Brittany, and Quinn had just said that work had revolved around a prominent politician and could say no more but the problem had been fixed and both tonight and Sunday should run smooth clear of work situations.

Dinner was enjoyed, the conversation flowed, the loving gestures and sexual overtures flowed, and Quinn paid for the meal despite that they usually took turns to pay for these dates and it was Santana's turn - the blonde wanted to in way of apologies for being absent today.

They made their way to one of their favoured clubs and it was alive and thriving with the electric heat so many bodies made, thudding to the beat and offering that glorious opportunity to let off the pent up steam from work and reality. They ordered drinks, and enjoyed the atmosphere, hands usually touching each other in some way as they spoke intimately and pressed kisses to lips, faces and necks. The dancing started, and their bodies fused together, lost in their own world they let the rhythm take over. And when thirst and heat became an issue, Santana lead the way to find a cosy little spot to take a reprieve in. She headed to the bar, and when she returned with their drinks she was smirking.

''That new bartender totally has it for me.''

She announced happily. Quinn, interested, narrowed her eyes and scanned the bar, setting eyes on the long haired brunette currently serving a group.

''No way.''

''She does, I swear! I was totally innocent for a change, and she just started flirting with me. I was minding my own business.''

Honestly, she really had just been waiting for their drinks. Then this hot girl started in with a line, and she'd found herself flirting back. Quinn lifted an eyebrow dubiously.

''I dunno babe, she seems like the 'keep 'em sweet to get tips' kind.''

''Whatever, Q. I has me a mission now, winner gets to top tonight depending on whether I can or cannot get her number.''

Despite the fact that Quinn knew she shouldn't encourage Santana's flirtatious issues, she'd already had quite a bit of wine and a couple of cocktails, and she really wanted to prove her girlfriend wrong. It seemed like a good opportunity to prove to her lover that not every girl responded to her flattery, and that it wasn't always as she thought it was.

''Fine. But y'know, if this ends up going badly, or I win, it's time you got what you deserved, Lopez.''

''Oh, you gunna punish me for being a bad girl, Quinny?''

Santana smirked, eyes ablaze, thriving on a challenge and the over confident knowing that she was getting laid tonight no matter what happened. It pissed Quinn off, irked her and both amused and aroused her all at the same time.

''You bet your perfect ass, sweetheart.''

''You have yourself a bet, Miss Fabray. Get ready to take it from me tonight, baby. I got big plans.''

Quinn kind of just wanted to drag Santana out of here right now, but she pulled her resolve together and simply clinked glasses with her, never dropping her eyes from hers. Santana just smirked to herself, but she scooted around and pulled the blonde into a languid, hot kiss that lasted for longer and went deeper and handsier than it probably should have in public. Not that either of them cared.

They talked a little more, kissed, cuddled and danced some more over the next hour, minds taken off their bet until the point came that more drinks were required. With a wink, Santana set off back to the bar, leaving Quinn sat watching the interaction her girlfriend made with this new mysterious woman.

She was very beautiful, enigmatic, and a lot of women had seemingly been trying to hit on her tonight. Okay, so despite the trust she had in Santana, Quinn was still human and a pang of threat did shuffle its way into the pit of her stomach. Was she prettier than her? Was she sexier? Would she offer a new taste of experience and mystery? Would they discover some deep, profound connection whilst flirting over the bar?

She rolled her eyes at herself, internally telling herself to get a grip. Santana was in love with her, and that was the end of it. This was a stupid bet, with both of them having a point to prove. They were going to go home together tonight, as they always did, and wake up in their shared bed together in the morning, as they always did. They shared a life, not a fleeting moment.

Santana was up there for a good ten or fifteen minutes, Quinn watched some of the moves - the hair tucking thing, drawing patterns on the bars surface, ducking her head, using the tits…it was all very familiar. Eventually, just when she thought she would be able to be the victor tonight, she saw the girl take Santana's hand, pull it forward, and write on it.

''Shit.''

Within a couple of minutes, Santana was back, holding their drinks and boasting a smug smirk as well as a number scrawled on the back of her hand.

''Your ass is mine tonight, beautiful. Drink up, you need to hydrate.''

Quinn rolled her eyes, trying to ignore wagging eyebrows, but did sip some of her drink. It was almost 2am by the time they were preparing to leave. By which point, Quinn really didn't care all that much that she was going to be Santana's sex slave when they got home. Because, well duh! Taking the Latina's hands, she chuckled at nothing in particular as they kissed and inched towards the exit, not at all quickly because they couldn't keep their hands off one another.

''So babe, who's the Queen of Flirting?''

''You are.''

Santana nodded, kissing Quinn once more, and then turning to lead her out of the club. Only, as soon as she turned, she stopped abruptly because the bartender girl - Katie, as it said on her hand - was stood right in front of them. She had quite obviously overheard them, and glanced at their laced together hands, and took in the comfortable, knowing proximity and air between them.

''Are you serious? Did you fucking use me to score with her? Is she your girlfriend?''

Stunned, Santana's mouth opened to respond but she didn't get the opportunity. Instead, one of the drinks that had been sitting on the tray she carried got thrown in her face.

''Hey! Back the hell off.''

Quinn stepped in front of Santana and pushed Katie back, donning an incredibly stern and intimidating glare. She was taller, and apparently had a darker disposition than Katie, who decided to take an extra step back away from the blonde. Still, she looked angry, and hurt, and she looked between them with ire.

''You're both fucking twisted.''

She departed then, and Quinn retook Santana's hand and lead her out of the club, grabbing some spare napkins from a table on the way out. Everything seemed a blur to Santana from that point, they got in a taxi and Quinn spoke to the driver, Quinn opened the door, Quinn started the elevator using their key that deposited them directly into the loft.

And then they were home.

''Quinn…''

''Don't.''

Her tone had a bite to it, but it wasn't devoid of empathy either. Just when Santana thought she was going to get a lecture, and their night was going to go down the toilet, Quinn grabbed her up and kissed her. Hard.

Her mouth was unrelenting, taking dominance over the kiss, controlling its pace and depth. The Latina let herself be moved back until she connected roughly with a wall, but all her mind could think of was kissing Quinn back - touching her, getting her naked…but she wasn't the one in control. The blonde took both of her wrists, lifted them up over her head, and pinned them to the wall.

She pulled her head back just enough to connect their eyes. They were storm dark, swirling and sparking, angry, aroused, obsessed…Santana didn't look away.

''I win.''

The lawyer stated in a cracked whisper before initiating another kiss, keeping Santana's hands up above her. Instinctually, her knee moved between the Latina's legs, electing a moan that was swallowed up by her own mouth as it connected with her sex. Even through the dress, Quinn could feel how hot and ready Santana was. The financial analysts' body arched into hers, seeking purchase, seeking friction and relief.

''Quinn, por favor…''

She panted, tilting her head to let the blonde devour her neck, wanting so badly for her to touch her and stop playing. Quinn bit the nook of her neck somewhere between light and firm - not enough to mark but enough to get her blood running even hotter. Her right hand transferred the grasp of her wrists wholly to the left, leaving the right to trail the voluptuous body on offer. Down, trailing the skin of her chest, cupping covered tits that Santana arched into. Quinn looked directly at her, watched Santana bite down on her bottom lip, eyes begging for more. She let her hand descend, slip up her dress, and scratch up her thigh.

''Ay Dios Mio, por favor…cógeme…''

Quinn knew that when Santana started muttering in Spanish then she was overcome with need and want. She had her right where she wanted her. Their eyes didn't separate as Quinn's fingers slipped into her panties, and eased into slick wet folds. A soft moan emanated from the back of Santana's throat, eyes burning into Quinn's, bottom lip between her teeth. Quinn dipped her fingers to skim over Santana's clit, beginning to move in perfectly pressured circles.

''S'that good baby?''

Santana nodded quickly.

''Si.''

''More?''

''Si…''

Quinn kissed her, and moved to slide both her fingers into her girlfriend. She was so hot and tight and just touching her made the taller woman go a little dizzy. She loved making Santana feel like that, and sound the way she did right now, to make her muscles quiver and her core purr. She set a steady rhythm, sliding her fingers in and out, thumb bumping and circling her clit. As Santana began to squirm, and pant and moan, and her hips pushed toward her, and her whole body began to vibrate, Quinn could tell she was getting close.

''I love you, Santana…so much.''

''Te amo, Quinn.''

Quinn kissed her again, and felt Santana's inner walls start to squeeze, and in that moment she withdrew her fingers. Her lovers face morphed into confusion, panic, even dismay. Her over aroused brain struggled to come up with words right now, as Quinn pulled her forward and reached behind her to the zip of her dress.

''You're overdressed, baby.''

In another moment, Santana's dress slipped to the floor and she stood in her black lacy underwear and heels, the dress pooled around her feet.

''Fuck…''

Quinn bit her lip, eyes gauging on the sight. So much perfect tan skin on show, chest heaving, tits just begging to be touched and nipples sucked. Santana had a fantastic rack. And abs. And ass. Just…everything. And knowing she was hers to unwrap from this sexy as fuck underwear made Quinn's own coil tug demandingly, urgently.

''Bedroom. Now.''

The authority in Quinn's voice made the objection of stopping die in Santana's throat. She had been right there, ready to cum and then suddenly it had all stopped. She swallowed a lump in her throat, turned on by Quinn's control, but briefly wondering if this was a small punishment for what had happened at the club. The blonde hadn't mentioned it yet, she had been expecting something. Other than Quinn making her her sex bitch, obviously.

They migrated into the bedroom, and Santana pulled Quinn back into her and caught her mouth again. Tongues roamed and the blonde's hands skimmed her sides, and Santana moved to rid her of her dress. Only, Quinn caught her hands again.

''Oh no, no…my win my rules. No touching for you.''

''But…''

''You finally pushed too far, so now it's punishment time.''

Santana stared at her girlfriend, trying to work out whether she was serious or not. Quinn looked steady, and didn't yield, and suddenly Santana began to get a little nervous.

''Wait, seriously?''

''Seriously. You in?''

The Latina cleared her throat, and mustered up her confidence - this was Quinn. She wasn't going to do anything outstandingly bad to her, so what was the worry? Her idea of punishment would probably be to fuck her on her hands and knees with the strap on or something - still a win for her. Basically a night of hot sex with her girlfriend.

''Bring it on, baby.''

Quinn smirked devilishly.

''Good. Get your ass on the bed.''

Santana narrowed her eyes at the command, but did as she was told and crossed over to the bed, not noticing Quinn grab a dress scarf that had been draped over the standing mirror. It was hers, Santana had bought her it last year when they visited San Francisco where Quinn had grown up. It was one of her favourites, she wore it often, like she had just a few days ago which was why it was still strewn over the mirror. The idea of using it now excited her, because she would think about it every time she wore it.

She followed her girlfriend, taking her mouth assertively, moving to unsnap her bra at the same time as she let the scarf fall to the floor at the side of the bed. She then eased down the straps and pulled the item away, tossing it behind her and drinking in the sight of her pretty much naked girlfriend. Then she pushed her panties down a little, shoved Santana down onto the bed, and removed the last item of clothing completely.

Fuck she was ridiculously hot.

Quinn continued to stare at her as she removed her own dress, not letting Santana take any part of undressing her. When the red material was tossed aside too, she smirked as she mounted her girlfriend, knees planted on either side of her on the bed, and fisted some of her hair to pull back her head - not roughly, just enough to make it hot, and kissed her again.

Santana obeyed the unspoken rule for oh, about one minute, before her hands found their way to Quinn's pantie covered ass. The blonde detached their mouths and shook her head, reaching back and taking the Latina's hands away from her.

''Behave.''

''Or what?''

''Or you'll make things a lot worse for yourself.''

''Oh right, my ''punishment''.''

Quinn's anger was provoked, but truth be told, Santana's blatant arrogance also turned her on. She had no idea why, because it was infuriating. It was her own fault, really, she had been threatening her all this time and the only thing she'd ever done was cave and rewarded her with sex every time. But the boundaries had never really been crossed like they had tonight, lines had been crossed, and Quinn thought of what had happened earlier.

That bartender had genuinely been upset. She had thought Santana liked her, not that she was playing some game in front of her girlfriend. If that had been her, it would have really hurt her feelings. She knew at some point it was bound to happen, and tonight they were both responsible in a way, because she had made that stupid bet with her girlfriend too.

''Shift up the bed, baby.''

Santana, with that sexy lop sided smirk she had, still thinking this was a game that would end happily for her, did as she was told without further objection. She moved up to the bed, stretching out and watching as Quinn followed her. The blonde leant over her, kissed her mouth, kissed her neck, and soon made her way to kiss, nip and suck her tits. The Latina hummed, body quickly reacting to the ministrations as she arched up, head pushing back into the pillow.

Her mind was foggy, her whole body still on edge from almost cumming in the hallway moments ago, that coil still tight and her entire being still pulsating. She loved to feel of Quinn's mouth on her tits, she was so good at working her up and more than a few times in their sexual history Quinn had made her cum just by playing with her breasts.

Long moments rolled by, and as a hand remained on one of her tits, the other disappeared, but Santana's attention was on the fact her girlfriend's mouth had moved to kiss and lick along her stomach, the lines of her abdomen, getting lower and lower until her hips started to squirm and her hands found Quinn's head to try and direct her where she was desperate for her.

''No touching, grab the headboard.''

Quickly, Santana did. If it was going to get her what she wanted, then she wasn't going to argue. She reached up and her hands quickly found purchase on the iron wrought bars of their beds. As soon as they did, Quinn's tongue licked a long, firm stroke against the slit of her pussy.

''Quinn, baby…si…''

''You taste so good baby.''

Santana just hummed to the husky compliment, eyes scrunched as powerful waves of euphoria began to take over. Everything else disappeared - the room, life outside, tonight, tomorrow, work, friends and family…it all fell away as the only thing in the world that existed was Quinn eating her out.

Her tongue circled her clit, flicking it in random patterns, then would quickly drop down to slide over or into her hole, then dart back up to her clit. Her teeth nibbled, she applied different pressures, and she was right there. Right there…then nothing.

Wait, what?

Panting heavily, Santana's eyes opened, her uncoordinated self trying to lift her head up to see what the hell was happening. Her body pulsated so powerfully that it was agonising, she just wanted to cum…needed to cum, but the mouth was gone and she didn't understand what the hell was happening.

''Quinn…what?''

She tried to move, but she was stopped. Not by the blonde, but as she looked up at her hands, she realised that they had rather effectively been bound to the bars. Frowning, she tried to work out when exactly that had happened, and tugged at them defiantly. Useless.

''What the fuck Quinn?''

Scowling angrily, Santana searched the proximity for her girlfriend. She found her by the walk in closet, bent down, pulling out a familiar box.

''This isn't a game, Santana. You can't push so far and always expect to get what you want. It's about time there were some consequences.''

Santana's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Was Quinn really actually going to punish her? The pang of nerves set in again. So did the flutter of excitement. It did kind of turn her on that her girlfriend was pissed off and had taken ultimate control, Santana was basically helpless and the blonde was totally in charge.

Still, that didn't mean that she didn't want to get out of this to have her own way.

''Look, I'm sorry. Can we just forget about what happened and…''

''No. And if you try to dismiss this again, you will be gagged.''

Fuck. The Latina swallowed hard. Narrowed eyes suspiciously watched Quinn stand and carry the box over toward the bed. She knew what was in there. That was their sex toy box. And there was a gag in there. As well as other things that definitely could be used as a form of punishment.

Silently now, dark eyes watched her girlfriend remove her underwear, then shuffle through the box with contemplation. She smirked, and pulled out a vibrator. Quinn sat on the edge of the bed, tiling to skim her lips against Santana's, smirking mischievously. She started the vibrator and gently skimmed it against her girlfriends sex, instantly getting a jolt and the Latina sucked in a sharp breath.

''You're a sexy woman, Santana. You know exactly what to say to women, but you have me and I'm going to prove to you that it's not a good idea to push me so far. No matter how much you beg for it, I'm going to stop every time you're about to cum. And I'm going to pleasure myself, and you have to watch, but you're not going to be able to touch me or taste me. That's your punishment.''

Santana bit her lip, flinching and squirming under the vibrator, eyes locked into Quinn's, swallowing hard. She knew Quinn meant it. She had her resolve face on. She was in full command, and she had chosen the exact worst punishment for Santana because she took great pride, accomplishment and pleasure in being able to get Quinn off and taste her efforts. Watching her do it herself without any involvement or interaction? That was a killer. Particularly joined up with the fact she was going to work her up but not finish her off.

Quinn did just that. Yet again, with the vibrator and her mouth flicking over a hard, over sensitive nipple, she worked her quickly up to the edge and then stopped, earning a frustrated groan from the Latina. Then she was made to watch as Quinn knelt by her - so close - and touched herself. Fingers teasing her own clit, groping her own breast, moaning softly and tilting her head back. Santana could see the glisten on her fingers, and her eyes glued to that hand. Quinn played with her clit, flicking, rolling, pinching and dipped her fingers in and out of her pussy.

''I'm so hot Santana, it feels so good.''

Her aroused voice drifted in the air, followed by another moan as she fingered herself faster, deeper, dropping her other hand from her breast to play with her clit as the other just focused on pumping into herself. Flushed skin, breath broken, and moans getting quicker…Santana knew she was close. She knew her girlfriend. And sure, she'd watched Quinn masterbate before, but she'd always gotten to be an active participate - she'd gotten to touch her, or eat her out after and make her cum again. Not this time.

The blonde came alone, around her own fingers, hard and fast, body writhing in pleasure and face contorted into euphoria. Santana panted, desperate, helpless, angry, excited…a lot of things ran through her right now, even jealousy that Quinn and cum and she hadn't. But her eyes were still glued, and after a moment when a hazy, sated Quinn looked at her properly, she saw it.

''You wanna taste me baby?''

''Yes.''

Quinn smirked, shuffled forward a little, getting closer and closer, and Santana thought maybe her resolve had broken - or this was the end and she'd survived her punishment and they'd get to fuck each other all night now…but those hopes were thwarted as the pussy juice coated fingers stopped right in front of her.

''Tough.''

Instead, Quinn sucked her own fingers, and Santana growled in the back of her throat, slinging a scowling dark look at her girlfriend.

''Puta.''

Quinn just smirked, obviously the insult breezed right off of her because she knew what she was doing was working, and sat back and glanced into the box. She smirked, picked out one of the strap ons they owned - the big, purple double ended one, and glanced back at her lover.

''Remember when we last used this? Tuesday night. I came so hard when you took me against the wall. So did you. And then later, when it was here on the bed, slow and steady and perfect? We were all sweaty, and our muscles burnt and it all built and built…you came first, underneath me, my name on your lips…you came in multiples, and you looked so fucking beautiful baby.''

Santana stared at her girlfriend, breathing heavily still, listening and remembering as Quinn slipped on the strap on, gasping a little as she inserted her end into herself. She shuffled on her knees between her legs, easing them apart gently as she spoke, winding her up, taunting…and then easing the dildo into her pussy.

''Fuck…Q…''

Quinn was so close, her body hot, she smelt her cum and it was intoxicating, and now she was buried inside her and her mind wanted to explode. Quinn began to rock, slowly, easing in and out, rolling her hips just so. Santana's heels dug into the mattress, ass and hips lifting up to seek as much friction as she could find, desperate to get off. Quinn was always one step ahead though, always making sure she didn't get that far, but making tantalising strokes inside of her.

She worked her up, and up and up…and then she stopped, and Santana shook her head, wrapping her legs around the blonde's ass.

''No, please Quinn…please make me cum…''

Quinn was tempted, she really was. She bit her lip, and looked down at the woman she loved and at the sheer desperation and panic covering her face. She was literally begging her here. And she loved making Santana orgasm, she did, it was one of the best feelings in the world. It made her happy, it made her hot, and only she got to see it and be so sacredly intimate. It did things.

''No.''

But if she caved now then all of this would fall to the wayside and Santana would never take her seriously and would continue to do what she did merrily and without pause.

She eased out of Santana's grip, took off the strap on, and began to ease it onto her girlfriend instead, just without the part that would usually insert into the Latina. She strapped it on, moved her way up and eased herself down onto it.

''I'm gunna ride you so hard baby…''

Quinn kept her promise. Her body moved, hips rolling, her muscles working, tits bouncing. Santana could feel her, the heat, the pressure, the pleasure almost…felt it almost enough, but not quite enough. But she was transfixed on watching her girlfriend - so bold, uninhibited and in control. Literally the sexiest, most beautiful sight she had ever seen. Not that Quinn wasn't usually inhibited, but there was something extra, something about this that radiated out of her.

Santana hung on every moan and utterance, every roll, every jolt…her throat went dry, her eyes were too scared to leave the image before her, and her hands wiggled and tugged to see if she could get out of this fucking scarf. She couldn't, and she grunted in frustration, but her mind did think of something else. She rolled her own hips, and Quinn responded with a groan, so she did it again and made a thrust upward purposefully. It felt good to claw back at least a little control, as she thrust into her girlfriend again, even if it was just for a moment.

''Santana Carmelita Lopez, you are not taking an active part in this.''

Quinn chastised breathily. Santana tutted and rolled her eyes with a huff.

''Fine, but…do me one favour?''

The blonde looked at her suspiciously.

''What?''

''Rub your clit.''

Quinn smirked, and she knew that despite Santana was frustrated and wasn't enjoying a big element of this, but still the love and lust and everything else she felt came through to try and still make it as pleasurable as she could for her. So she cut her a break, and let her hand slide down to touch her clit again.

She worked herself up, sliding, grinding and rolling her hips, exploring different angles as she bounced on the purple dildo. Seeing Santana underneath her, completely under her control, it gave her a heady sensation of excitement that zapped its way into her core, pushing her harder, making her wetter. Her body still hummed from the first orgasm and seemed to add to the energy building for this one, her skin hot, her pussy hot, her mind exploding.

Her body angled forward, hand grasping onto the top bar of the bed, angled over Santana's body as it could no longer remain upright. She groaned loudly at the change of angle of the dildo, rutting herself against it, ramming into Santana's hips that she was still not allowed to move.

''Fuck baby…I'm so hot…I'm gunna cum…holy fuck…''

Santana could only watch it all, panting heavily, turned on to an impossible degree but with the anger at not being able to do anything feeding into that. She fought constantly with her body to keep it relatively still, and her hands still tried to somehow pry themselves free but Quinn apparently was some kind of expert at trying people up and she couldn't. So she was left to watch - watch as Quinn fucked herself on top of her, wild and free and raw, touching herself and enjoying every second of it.

As the groans, moans, gasps and mutters became even more stuttered, and squeaked and cracked, the Latina knew what was about to happen. All of a sudden, an even higher and longer sound emanated out of her girlfriend, her body spasming as she fell over the edge and into orgasm. She could feel Quinn cumming on top of her, and when her eyes looked and she realised that she was squirting, she fought with the scarf even more.

''Oh my god, you're squirting…let me free, Quinn.''

She couldn't stand not being part of this anymore, she needed to feel and taste. But shakily, still riding through her cascade of orgasms, Quinn shook her head. Santana glowered and tugged forcefully at the scarf, trying to force it to give way.

''I mean it, I want to taste you.''

There was a low, satisfied hum in the back of Quinn's throat, everything started to slow down, and a highly contented look spread across her face. Her hand dropped away from herself, and she panted floppily, waiting a moment as she just let her body be still for a moment aside from its irregular breathing, and then drew herself off of the strap on and flopped onto her back on the bed.

She laughed, a hand moving to cover her forehead, as she continued to pant.

''That was amazing!''

Santana grunted, still aggressively tugging at the scarf.

''I wouldn't know, Q.''

Her body throbbed, and she looked at the strap on attached her to, glistening with her girlfriend's cum, the same that had landed or squirted onto her own tan skin. There was something incredibly erotic about it, so fucking gloriously hot and raw and that particular image of Quinn would fuel her spank bank for a very long time.

''You deserve it.''

''I do not!''

''I've had to deal with your flirting crap for over two years, waiting for the inevitable other shoe to drop. It did.''

She shifted, rolling closer to her girlfriend to her girlfriend, and pecked her on the lips.

''I'm going to take the strap on off of you, and then I'm going to get a shower, and then I'll untie you. I suggest that you use the time alone to think about it.''

The financial analyst would have objected, but she knew it wouldn't have done any good. She watched silently as Quinn did as she said she would, took the sex toy off of her, picked up the discarded vibrator and strolled into the bathroom and shut the door. She had to wait at least 20 minutes for her to come out again, towel looped around her body looking positively refreshed. The blonde came straight over to her, and with annoying ease set her free from the restraint. As soon as she did, Santana sat up and rolled off of the bed.

Naked, she stalked over to the dresser in the walk in closet, grabbed a camisole, and yanked it over her.

''I'm sleeping in the guest room.''

''Why?''

''Because I'm an adult, Quinn - I don't need a fucking lecture and to be left to think about my behaviour from my girlfriend. You can't just spend this whole time in our relationship being generally okay with me being a flirt with some mild reservations about it, joking that you'll like, put your foot down and punish me or whatever. It's been my impression this whole time that the angry sex that followed the times you got yourself all riled up about it was pretty much that. And now this one single time happens and you do this? It's not fair!''

Quinn didn't speak or move during Santana's explosion, but the Latina flailed and scowled and edged toward the door.

''I thought it was pretty hot.''

She stated, knowing that the explosion was coming from frustration and pent up sexual tension that Santana was very used to being able to expel. Now she just turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

''It was!''

Unworried, Quinn got ready for bed and climbed under the sheets, passing out fairly quickly. But a couple of hours later, maybe around dawn, she knew that Santana was there, because the slightly smaller woman's body spooned her tightly.

XxX

''Are you going to be this miserable the whole day?''

Quinn asked, not without a smirk, as she drove the car headed to Santana's parents house outside the city. Santana sat slumped in the passengers seat, elbow propped on the window, staring out.

''Yes.''

''Baby, c'mon…''

''You could've at least let me taste you…or like, rode my face.''

The blonde smirked and reached across the car to take Santana's hand.

''Well, that would defeat the point of it being a punishment for you, right? But, if you promise to do a little re-thinking about all your flirting, I will fuck you so hard tonight you won't be able to remember your name.''

Santana squeezed the blonde's hands and looked around at her, still grumpy but also hopeful.

''And I can eat you out?''

''Yes! You can eat me out!''

Santana let a glimmer of a smirk cross her lips, before she adopted her scowl again.

''I'll think about it.''

Quinn laughed, and nodded, and Santana squeezed her hand again. And when they got home they did have some obnoxiously fantastic sex.

Despite that the Latina was still grumpy for the next couple of days.


End file.
